Convergence
by FreakyInker
Summary: A new ally steps forward to help the Order contain their growing problems, much to the consternation of Severus Snape. Will he and Buffy be able to work together, or will internal conflict open the door for Voldemort to rise, fortify and ultimately triumph.
1. Chapter 1

Hello and welcome to Convergence: A brand new crossover fan fic feature Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Severus Snape along with a whole bunch other characters we know and love.

And why?

Because I think it's fun putting Buffy in new and interesting world and seeing how she deals. It tends to be entertaining. 'Nuf said.

I would like to take a moment to send a big, rock-star thank you to _I'm secretly annoyed with you, _as she is my acting Beta for this story. If not for her, I'm sorry to say that the HP universe would likely be poorly represented. Plus, she speaks British, so we can keep this as authentic as possible. Thanks, Secrets!

And though I think this goes without saying, HP and BtVS do not belong to me. I assume you all know this; however, everyone else adds a disclaimer to their fan fics and I really hate being left out, so…here you go.

Let me know what you think!

F.I.

* * *

**Convergence**

**Chapter 1**

If the tweed-clad watcher felt at all intimidated by the room full of wizards he sat before, there was no outward indication. If anything he eyed them with supreme aloofness and mild disdain.

It was a look that Severus Snape mirrored as he glared at the unwelcomed interloper, though he felt there was likely a good dose of annoyance edging the set of his mouth as well. At least he hoped there was.

The other Order members present – Albus Dumbledore, Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin - did not look disdainful or annoyed at all. Instead they all appeared intently curious.

The fools were probably reeling in wonderment over the fact that a muggle had somehow gained entrance into number twelve Grimmauld Place.

_Idiots_!

But it wasn't a curious thing…it was dangerous one, and Severus was about to say as much when the previously silent headmaster finally deigned to speak.

"This is most unusual."

Snape turned to his left and snorted as the very true sentiment left Dumbledore's lips. He watched as the older wizard reclined back in his chair, eyebrows disappearing beneath his rather unconventional and extremely absurd hat. Yet even in his evident state of surprise, he managed to look thoughtful and his eyes sparkled in amusement.

Snape felt himself grow even more annoyed.

"I am curious, Mr. Travers, how you have not only managed to locate the Order's headquarters, but also how you have seen beyond our wards?"

Snape would have told him the obvious; the wards were hugely inadequate; but he doubted his opinion on the subject would be welcomed at that moment.

The muggle, who introduced himself as Quentin Travers, offered a small but derisive smile. "Though I will admit that your lot has been particularly…elusive…I have my means."

That was vague, and Severus Snape did not like the sound of it. He edged forward in his seat, sneering, and not bothering to hide his displeasure over the situation. "It should not be possible."

But the intruder was apparently immune to the voice that made so many others quake in fear. Another point of annoyance for the potions master, and for his efforts Snape received barely a cursory glance.

"You underestimate the abilities of the Watcher's Counsel."

Turning his full attention to Dumbledore, Quentin let out a haughty breath. "As I'm sure you are aware, seeing as several notices were sent to you and thusly ignored, we have a bit of a problem. Namely _your_ Dark Lord."

Dumbledore templed his fingers as leaned over the table, smiling in a much friendlier manner than had been offered him. "I have received your notices, and I am certain that you have received my replies. At the sake of sounding repetitious, Voldemort is a problem for the wizarding world, not the muggle."

"And if it were being contained, I would agree with you. However, this is not the case."

Quentin pulled a briefcase from the floor, letting it drop loudly on the table. With a resounding click, it popped open. Removing a stack of papers, Quentin tossed them face up.

Arthur, who had been watching the full exchanged with rapt attention, surged forward. "Muggle papers? Fascinating!"

"Hardly." Quentin derided, frowning at the red-head. "These are recent publications, two from London, the other three from the surrounding area."

Dumbledore reached out and arranged the papers so he and the other Order members could see the headlines.

_Family Disappears: Whereabouts remain unknown. _

_Burglary Goes Awry Leaving Entire East End Family Dead._

_Couple Murdered in Bed._

_Man Return's From Holiday to Find Wife and Child Murdered._

_House Erupts into Flames Killing Seven; Origins of Inferno Still Unknown._

Snape nearly flinched as he scanned over the non-moving pictures. He recognized each of those occurrences, if only from second-hand accounts.

The twinkle behind Dumbledore's bright, azure eyes dimmed as his brow furrow. "This is…tragic…however…"

"Do not even try to tell me that there is not a connection. Each of these families was destroyed by Death Eaters at the whim of a mad man. Though the Counsel has done well to keep...certain details...from surfacing, our own sources have clearly traced a magical residue at each location."

He continued to eye Dumbledore, blatantly daring him to disagree. And though the old wizard didn't go so far as to acquiesce, Snape understood that his silence was enough for Quentin to continue. "You're _wizarding problems_ are leaking into the muggle world which means that they are now my problem as well."

Snape felt his ire swell. What was this man thinking? And why wasn't Dumbledore attempting to put a stop to this nonsense? "So what? Are you planning to send an army to our aid? You will find, in short order that such a tactic will hardly be effective. A muggle army cannot stand against wizards and if you know as much as you claim, than this should hardly be news."

"Wizard's do not hold a monopoly on the supernatural." Quentin barked, finally giving Snape his full attention, matching him scowl for scowl. "You simply allow it to run amuck. We have alternate ways of dealing which are very useful. And quite frankly, it doesn't matter if you agree or not."

Quentin took the opportunity to gather his papers, glaring at all of the Order member's in turn. Snape was mildly happy to note that the other man's stern visage did not have near the effect of his own.

"I am offering an alliance. That would be preferable to sending my _army_, as you so deemed it, in on a separate mission. Pooling our resources would be only beneficial. However, if don't agree, I will not simply turn away and consider it a closed matter."

He tossed the lid to the briefcase shut, but didn't bother to sit again. "Either you allow me to provide help or I do this outside of the Order." He fixed a pointed look on Dumbledore as he spoke. "We want to help and I worry that if we do not work together on this, we may be at odds. And that will only aid our mutual enemy."

"You are leaving me very little choice." Dumbledore sighed. "But I do admit that such cooperation could be beneficial."

Severus couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You cannot seriously be considering this?"

"And why not." Lupin chimed in for the first time. Of course _he _would agree with such an unorthodox and completely idiotic notion. "Help is help, Snape. Why would we turn it away?"

"Because muggles, no matter how many this Watcher's Counsel has at their disposal, cannot win in a fight against Death Eaters! They cannot help therefore they will be a supreme hindrance."

Severus knew his argument was valid but he also knew that he was being ignored.

_What else was new…_

"I am glad we have this settled." Quentin said with a tip of his hat. "I will send you the details of their arrival as soon as I know."

Severus did not think it _settled _at all. But that was the last thing that the watcher said before gripping the handle on his briefcase and strolling out the door.

* * *

Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Giles gingerly placed the phone back in its cradle before turning to lean against the kitchen counter. Arms folded, he wore what Xander had long ago dubbed the "Giles-think face" but what Buffy recognized as a pensive, worried frown.

"Well?"

Buffy had made a half-hearted attempt _not _to listen in on what, for all she knew, was a private conversation. But two _'oh dears'_ and a handful of _'I sees'_ into it, she gave up all pretenses and sat at the bar watching him without even trying to conceal her curiosity.

And she wasn't the only one.

Though they hadn't made a sound, she was very aware that both Willow and Xander were standing just behind her…waiting, wondering, anticipating.

This is what destroying the hell mouth had turned them into - a bunch of over-eager, under-stimulated, eavesdroppers - and not for the first time Buffy thought that they could all use a hobby – preferably one that didn't involve the use of crossbows and God-hammers.

…or possibly what they each needed was some form of gainful employment.

Buffy snorted at _that _notion. _Or not!_

Giles removed his glasses and began to polish the already pristine lenses. "That was Quentin Travers."

"As is, _head-watcher-guy, _Quentin Travers?" Xander moved to sit on a stool to Buffy's right offering her a cursory grin.

"Only Quentin Travers I know." Buffy twisted her mouth, feeling the need to outwardly display her displeasure.

But the truth was that she was also a little bit excited. Even before Giles had started polishing his glasses – a telltale sign that something was up – Buffy hadn't for a moment believed that Quentin would call Cleveland just to check up on them. No, he would have a purpose. And while his reasons were, at least half the time, to throw them all into a whirlwind with some apparently scheduled, wholly idiotic and decidedly unnecessary task, there was also the chance that he had something important for them to do; slaying that needed to be done; a world that needed to be saved.

A purpose for the Slayer.

It had been a solid year since the fall of Sunnydale, and with its tumble into the abyss so went all of the worthwhile badness. Sure there were still vampires, not to mention the occasional Drokken Beast, Gavrok Spider and Skilosh Demon (or as Buffy like to call them "three-eyed creeps"), but without the constant threat of rising super-evil, the rest seemed to almost give up.

Yup. The bad guys didn't have their hearts in it anymore; they were apparently done with the unscrupulous and had settle for the slightly dodgy. And while Buffy had spent a huge part of her teenage years lamenting her need for a vacation, at the ripe old age of twenty-two she was feeling restless.

No that she openly _hoped_ that there was sudden, world-endangering trouble.

Of course not!

...not exactly.

Or maybe she did?

Okay, she definitely did…but she was pretty sure she felt bad about that fact.

Still, it wouldn't do to sound _too _eager about the fact that the lead Watcher had contacted them out of the blue with a _potentially_ harrowing tale of _possibly_ evil deeds; the kind that would require the particular skill-set that only one girl, in all the world had at any one given time.

Nope, that wouldn't do at all.

"He's not going to strip the Buffster of her power and throw her in an abandoned house with a crazy vampire is he? 'Cause I am so not on board with that."

Xander gave Buffy a nudge and received an eye roll in return. "I'd like to see them try _that_ again."

"Its…It wasn't about me?" Willow spoke tentatively, almost as though she feared the answer, and Buffy could have kicked herself for forgetting.

_Of course! _

Willow had been attempting to become a full-fledge (not to mention _paid) _member of the Counsil since they had first settled in Cleveland. But they were hesitant, afraid even. Her turn to the dark side, brief though it was, wasn't working in her favor, and regardless of the progress she had made, regardless of the fact that she would be an asset with or without her magic, they were seriously dragging their feet with the whole process. And Buffy's support - her status as The One - wasn't doing a damned thing to help.

Suddenly all three of them turned to Giles, eagerly awaiting his response, and when he shook his head Buffy couldn't help but notice the instant sigh of relief that emanated from her friend nor the disappointed "oh" that quietly escaped her lips a mere moment later.

"I'm afraid not. This…this was something else entirely."

Buffy sighed dramatically. "Spill, Giles! What's the what…or, you know, the who?"

"Yes, yes…so sorry I just…I'm not sure…" Giles replaced his glasses, and with a tweak of his eyebrow and took a deep breath. "Quentin has requested our presence…elsewhere. Apparently there is something which needs our…or rather, the Slayer's….attention."

Buffy wasn't sure what to make of that ambiguous and very un-Giles-like statement. "But we just got settled here. Isn't it a little soon for an elsewhere?"

"We're not to leave permanently. At least, I don't think that's what he meant. There is simply a problem abroad – our kind of problem – and he wants us there right away."

Buffy could feel a little jolt, a slight rush. "What kind of problem?"

Giles shrugged.

Buffy scrunched up her nose. "That's not vague at all."

"When do we leave?" Came Willow's soft voice and Buffy couldn't help but turn to look at her. There was a twinge of excitement in those simple words. Not just excitement, _happy excitement; _something that had been absent from the young witch's voice for far too long. Apparently Buffy wasn't the only one whiling away the hours, waiting for something to do.

Xander must have caught it too, for he wound his arm behind Buffy's back to rest a gentle hand on Willow's shoulder. "Yea, when do we leave? I'll need to get a couple of things; a suitcase, some of those little, travel-size bottles of dandruff shampoo…"

"Quentin did not say for all of us to go." Giles made an attempt to look apologetic and failed. "Only Buffy and myself."

"What?!"

"That's not fair!"

"No way…Uh huh, Giles! I can't go to….where are we going again?"

"Oh right. London, at least to start. Though I got the impression that we won't be staying there. According to Quentin, we will be meeting a third-party at Heathrow and they will fill us in on the details as they take us to our destination."

Buffy leaned back, her watchful, green eyes trained on her mentor. _London!_ She'd never been to London. She'd never been anywhere because the Watcher's Counsil never sent her anywhere.

Her eyes narrowed, never taking them from Giles. _London?_ She got the distinct impression that he was leaving something out and as he squirmed slightly under her gaze, she knew she was right.

"Is that _all _he said?"

He shook his head. "He did offer a few other details." His eyes scanned briefly over Willow and Xander. "_Very few. _However, I think it best not to divulge the full extent of our conversation at this time."

"God, Giles! How many times have we been over this in the past...what? Seven years? These guys… "Buffy paused long enough to emphatically indicate her two best friends. "They're my loop. So you and me, we keep them…you know…in the loop. It's chi, or something." She frowned, uncertain if that had been the best way to make her point.

"Of course. How silly of me. Wouldn't want to interfere with your _chi_."

But regardless of Buffy's less-than eloquent attempt to express herself, Giles quickly – some might even say suspiciously so – relented. "I don't know exactly why Quentin has requested we go to London. However, he _did _say that our business was not with the Watcher's Counsil, but with a different sort of organization. An Order, he called it."

"More with the vague?" Buffy rubbed her temple, sighing. "So the Watcher's _Order?_"

"No, not Watchers…wizards…and I believe the term he used was 'Order of the Phoenix.'"

That certainly got everyone's attention. Buffy let her hand fall back to the bar and fought the urge to smile. One look at Xander, and she could tell he was engaged in a similar battle.

"Wizards? As in Gandolf?"

Willow, on the other hand, didn't look amused; she looked to be in awe. "No." Softly at first, but then she turned on Buffy so quickly that the Slayer was nearly knocked out of her seat. "No, no, no, no, no…. Wizard's, Buffy! As in _the male equivalent of witches_!"

Buffy found it hard not to smile at her friend's obvious excitement. "I thought those were warlocks."

Willow nodded even as she said "Not really!" And with that, the red-head turned away from Buffy, hands clasped tightly under her chin, and large eyes pleading.

"Please Giles, please! I have to go! I can't… not go! If ever there was a chance for me to learn how to control my magic; how to not get all black-eyed and, well, _grrrrr_….. I have to go, Giles! I…I just…" Her shoulders slumped and she let out a rather haggard breath. "I have to."

Giles opened his mouth, probably with some well-planed and beautifully articulated argument, but Buffy wasn't about to let this go. "So Quentin said only you and I can go?"

"He certainly indicted as much."

"Indicated? Giles, what were his _exact _words?"

"He said for you and I to arrange a flight into Heathrow as soon as possible and to contact him the moment we have our itineraries."

Buffy nodded, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "But he didn't say that Willow and Xander _couldn't _go?"

Giles' mouth formed a thin, straight line. "He did not _expressly _state as much, no."

"So, then…."

"However, he was still fairly clear."

"Fairly?"

"Very."

Buffy narrowed her gaze and chewed momentarily on her bottom lip. "But, as you said, he didn't _explicitly _forbid it, which – and, correct me if I'm wrong – could leave his instructions open to the teensiest bit of interpretation…."

Giles removed his glasses, clearly irritated as he began to rub the bridge of his nose. "Buffy…"

"And I need them. Willow's always so helpful with the…the magic. And, then Xander…with…with…" She sighed, tossing a flippant hand in the air. "Well, you never know when I might be in need of a new weapons chest."

"Thanks, Buff."

"And..and…and…_besides! _I tend to wrap these things up pretty quickly and who am I supposed to sight see with once the slaying is done? Europe, Giles! I want to do _Europe-y _things and I want to do them with my friends!"

"Very well." Giles replaced his glasses, looking pointedly at Buffy. "And how do you expect them to pay for their tickets?"

She hadn't thought of that. They'd pretty much been mooching off of the Watcher expense account, justifying it because they really did sometimes help with the whole world-saving business.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling mischievously. "I assume that you still have that shiny, platinum-colored card hiding in the top drawer of your desk…"

"How….how did you…"

"Which, if I'm not mistaken, is set aside for expenses associated with my Slayer stuff?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Giles blinked several times in quick succession, opening and closing his mouth several times as though to speak, but apparently her dear Watcher had nothing to say.

"The carp look, Giles, doesn't really do anything for you."

His jaw snapped shut and he cross his arms tightly over his chest.

Xander slapped Buffy gently on the back, and Willow couldn't help the huge smile that took over her face as she leaned to whisper to her friends. "By Jove, Buffy, I think you've flummoxed him."

"Bothered and bewildered." Xander added, his expression matching Willows.

"So what do you say, Watcher mine?" Buffy suppressed her own, smug grin and opted instead for fluttering eyelashes and bated breath. No one could resist sweet and demure Buffy.

Giles looked from Willow to Xander before his eyes finally lighted on Buffy and there he sighed and with a toss of his hands. They knew they had won.

"Fine!" He said, but not without pointing an accusing finger their way. "But I expect you all to conduct yourselves appropriately and to remember that this is hardly a vacation."

The three nodded at him like over-excited bobble heads.

"And you will listen to me. I know very little about wizards or their culture, but I do know that of the four of us I have a lot more experience and am far better versed in cross-cultural interactions. You will behave and you will defer to me. Am I understood?"

In answer he received two very loud, very high-pitched girlish squeals and a single fist-pump.

"I'm going to go pack." Willow announced, jumping up and down. "Oh my god! Wizards!"

"And I've got to go stock up on those afore mentioned bottles of shampoo."

"Ooo!" Buffy popped up from her seat and reached into her pocket, pulling out a twenty before whirling on Xander. "Can you grab me one of those electic, switch things?"

Xander gave her a quizzical look. "Ah, sure. Could you, maybe be a little more specific?"

"One of those…um, you, know, they make it so that American electronics are, like, metric."

"They have different electricity?"

"Oh, for…for crying out loud. Metric?" Giles kicked himself away from the counter and headed out of the kitchen, speaking derisively all the way. "It's called a voltage converter and they have the same electricity, they only have a slightly different way of plugging things in"

They could hear him as he banged up the stairs. "This is precisely what I was speaking of...You'd think there was only one country…"

Xander snatched the twenty out of Buffy's hand. "Voltage converter...right…"

And as the door to Giles' room shut, they could both hear one last, strangled grasped of frustration. "Metric..."

"Imagine, Buffy. A whole country full of Gileses."

Buffy nodded, looking up the stairs and smiling broadly. "Tea, tweed and "Oh my's"?"

"That's what I'm talking about."

"Look on the bright side, Xander; maybe we'll finally learn exactly what he means when he calls you a 'stupid prat'."

Xander cringed. "Yea, I'm pretty sure I don't want to know that one."

"No worries. I've watched reruns of Absolutely Fabulous on BBC and am pretty sure that Giles is extreme Brit of the super-starchy variety. I'm willing to bet that these wizards were going to meet are far less stodgy and will be a lot more open to our supreme diverseness."

And with that thought Xander left and Buffy ran up the stairs to pack, quietly humming 'London Calling.'

Thank you so much for the reviews and I am very pleased that a few of you took the time to let me know what you think.

With that said; keep the comments coming. You may not believe this, but every time someone sent me a note about Convergence, the faster my fingers moved over the keyboard. Who would have guessed that such a correlation existed? Weird...

Oh, and great big, ginormous THANKS to Secrets, the beta for this story. You're awesome!

F.I.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It had been a bad day.

Scratch that.

It had been an _extremely _bad day.

For one, he hadn't gotten enough sleep. Not that such an occurrence was too unusual, but the evening before Severus had made minor…miscalculation… and neglected to put horned-slugs into the boil-cure potion he had been making for the infirmary. It was salvageable, but he was forced to monitor it late into the night.

Or, he supposed, a more accurate description would be 'early into the morning' because it was nearing four o'clock before he was finally able to slip into the cool comfort of his sheets.

Severus _really _hated not getting a full nights sleep.

This, of course, meant that he missed breakfast. Such an occurance might have been okay except that it was at breakfast that he was due to hand in his lesson plan for the coming school year. Which meant it was late; a fact that Minerva McGonagall took every opportunity to not-so-subtly reiterated.

Not that he cared, _not really, _but the old Scottish woman's rather vocal disapproval worked to ensure that he would not make the same mistake in the future.

He had offered an excuse. "Developing an entire year's worth of study material for seven years' worth of students is , as you well know, time-consuming and not to be taken lightly. I couldn't very well hand in anything that wasn't thoroughly planned out."

Not that he'd acctual spent time on it; he'd given her the same lesson plan that he had been using for nearly all of the past fifteen years and it took Minerva all of 20 minutes to realize this. She had banged on his office door with far more force than natural for someone of her age and size, at least to Severus' thinking, and when he swung open the door she violently thrust the document at him along with a second copy of the Ministry's New Education Reform Plan.

Second because he had burned the first.

As far as Severus was concerned, politicians had no business dictating education. Everything the Ministry stuck their hands in was worse off for it, and so it was for the young, eager minds that he taught that he ignored the reform and had nothing at all to do with the fact that he simply couldn't be bothered.

_Of course not_.

But Minerva had it in her head that this was not the case and arguing with her was akin to trying to reason with a Hungarian Horntail.

"Did you even bother to look at this, Severus?"

"I did." He lied smoothly even as he sharply yanked the parchments from her grasp, resigned to doing just about anything to get her to leave him alone. "However, seeing as it is complete bollocks, I chose to ignore it."

But just as he had assumed when Minerva burst indignantly into his office, ignoring it was not an option. So as she left in a swish of robes, he begrudgingly sat at his desk and scanned the government documents. Less than five days before the start of the new school year, Severus had to fix what wasn't even broken...per decree no less.

That proved to take a lot more time than he would have originally anticipated. And the result, aside from forcing him to push aside other, necessary tasks, was that he missed lunch.

He had planned to use the morning to complete the class schedules for his Slytherins - something else that should have already been done - and in the afternoon he was set to inventory his classroom stock. But it soon became evident that he would have to use the morning and afternoon to complete the revisions to his lesson plan which was all the more infuriating because he knew full well that he had no intention of actually following such nonsense.

And seeing as he needed to place his order for supplies and ingredients no later than six o'clock if he hoped to receive everything prior to his first class, the completion of the Slytherin class schedules would have to be pushed back to that evening.

Technically, he wouldn't have time for supper, but he'd be damned if he missed three meals just because Minerva suddenly decided that the Ministry had any business at all in the education of young witches and wizards.

With a vigor born of complete irritation, Severus scribbled furiously, barely looking up from his desk until three o'clock, when he rose and stretched the cricks from his back and neck. Leaving the revisions for the time being, he made his way to his classroom stores to take inventory.

With long, purposeful strides, Severus crossed to the far side of the dungeon classroom not bothering to light the sconces. Reaching the closet, he threw open the door murmuring a quick _Lumos. _

It was with supreme annoyance that he very quickly noted that the supply closet was being occupied by a boggart.

"Bloody hell!"

He slammed the door shut on the dark, amorphous form.

With eyes closed, Severus took a deep, steadying breath. He hadn't checked the classroom closet since the end of last year, so he wasn't completely surprised by the intruder, but that didn't stop him from being angry.

Upon opening the door, the thing had been so surprised and Severus had reacted so quickly that the nasty bugger couldn't manifest into his worst fear; something he was certain he didn't want to see.

He _should_ have used '_Riddikulus_',but Snape doubted that he could conjure anything at that moment which could make him laugh; not after the morning he'd had. So instead he cursed himself for leaving the supply closet for the whole of the summer without periodically checking for boggarts or doxies, and simply decided to give the inventory his best guess.

He did smile slightly with the thought of waiting and allowing the students to discover the boggart for themselves. It would certainly make for an interesting first class.

But even that was only a passing bright thought in an otherwise dim day. And by the time supper came around, he still had not completed the revisions, he hadn't been able to do a proper inventory, and he still had no schedules.

Still, he'd determined that he would not miss another meal. So with a toss of his quill and a resounding "Fuck all!", he rose from his desk. He might be up until some ungodly hour – for the second night in a row – but he could not, under any circumstances, miss another meal.

He had just finished securing the last button on his robe and was ready to leave when, out of the flu, he received a note from Albus, requesting his presence in his office after the completion of dinner.

He grumbled but was at least moderately grateful that the summons was for _after _dinner.

So, at seven o'clock, after hurriedly finishing off a generous helping of roast beef and potatoes, Severus swooped out of the Great Hall and ascending the stairs to the Headmaster's office.

He was bent on thoroughly expressing to Albus the exhausting number of tedious tasks he had waiting for him in the dungeon. The idea of venting his frustration was not un-agreeable and, if nothing else, doing so could get him out of one of the lengthy, tiresome and inconsequential conversations that often followed any meeting he had with the older wizard.

In fact, it was the first thing he moved to say when he was greeted, but the opportunity was fleeting and Severus did not make his move quickly enough. Instead, he was ushered in, offered biscuits and tea and was subsequently left to sit in an over-stuffed chair under the watchful scrutiny of all the past Headmasters as they glared suspiciously from their canvases.

"If you will kindly excuse me for one minute, Severus…"

The words _'No, I will not' _were on the tip of his tongue, but for an old man, Albus was surprisingly fast on his feet. Before a syllable was uttered, he moved from his office through a door behind the desk - the door to his private chambers - and Severus was left to fume.

And _fume _he did.

He leaned back with a huff thinking that he _should _be working schedules or lesson plans or ridding the supply closet of a boggart…

Well, maybe not that_._

But in the very least he could be helping himself to a second plate of pudding. Instead, he was called to the Headmaster's office and rather than doing anything at all productive, he was sitting and waiting.

No, that wasn't quite right.

Rather, he was sitting, waiting _and _brooding. Apparently Severus wasn't busy enough and had ample time to sit idly by.

He shoved a biscuit in his mouth, chewing roughly and never taking his eyes from the spot where Albus had disappeared.

By the time the door opened and Albus slipped behind his desk, Severus had been sitting, waiting and brooding for so long, that he could do little more than scowl when the headmaster smiled and offered him a lemon drop; a scowl that had no effect on the other man, much to Severus' aggravation.

"Glad to see that my time is so valuable to you, Albus." He spat the words and attempted to pour as much annoyance, frustration and ire into that simple sentence as he could.

Albus smiled. "Yes, I am sorry to have kept you waiting…"

Severus snorted.

"…but I'm afraid it couldn't be helped."

"Why am I here, Albus?"

Dumbledore reclined back in his seat completely unperturbed by Severus' tone. "How much do you know about the Watcher's Counsel and what they do?"

So that's what this was about. As if he wasn't upset enough already.

"Prior to meeting the enigmatic Mr. Travers, I was not even aware that such an institute existed. And to be honest, now that I know, I could not care less."

Albus nodded. "That is to be expected. The Watcher's Counsel is _very _secretive. They are not unlike our Order in that respect."

"Perhaps, though they were able to find and infiltrate our secret location and I still do not know who they are. So maybe the comparison is lacking?"

Severus had meant his comment as an insult to the Order, but Dumbledore seemed to think it mildly amusing if his expression was anything to go by. "True. True. And that is why…in part…I have asked you here this evening."

With that, Dumbledore slid a book across his desk, and Severus met the older wizard's gaze through narrowed eyes. "What's this?"

Dumbledore didn't say anything, but indicated with a nod of his head for Severus to take it. So, with a deep breath, Severus picked up the tomb. He wasn't sure why he felt hesitant - it was, after all, only a book - but something about the whole situation didn't bode well. Not that it seemed particularly sinister, either. He simply felt, as he ran long, elegant fingers over the slightly worn canvas binding, tired.

There was a purpose to all of this, and Severus had little doubt that he would not be pleased with whatever it was.

Looking at the plain cover, his dark eyes roamed over the title. He read it once, then twice before he let out an indignant scoff.

"'Schmitt and Collins Complete Compendium of Universal Folklore.'" Raising a sardonic brown at his employer, Severus read the title aloud, his voice a perfect blend of irritation and amusement. "You brought me here to give me a book of fairy tales?"

Dumbledore gave a soft laugh, sitting back in his chair. He folded his arms and laid them across his middle. "Yes. However, if you open it to the place I've marked, I think you may be interested in what it has to say."

Severus felt his shoulders tense. Though he respected the Headmaster more than he'd ever respected anyone, he hated these little games. Why could the old man not just tell him whatever it was that he wanted him to know?

"Headmaster, I really do not have the time…"

"I understand that you are a busy man, but please do take a moment to read that over. I think you may find it...enlightening."

Severus suddenly wanted out of that office. He wanted to rise from the leather chair, tossing his half-drunk tea aside and storm out. He had actual business that needed his attention and the headmaster wanted him to read stories and he wondered, not for the first time, if the old man had completely lost his mind.

"Fine." He snarled out his monosyllabic response.

Severus wrapped his arms around the book and moved to stand when Dumbledore halted him with a raised hand. "There is one other thing."

_Of course there is._

With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Severus sat back down resignedly.

It didn't matter at this point if he stayed in the Headmaster's office all evening…there was no way he would be able to finish everything that needed to be done.

_May as well make a bloody party of it._

"I have received notice from the Watcher's Counsel that our guests will be arriving on Friday. That is the business I was just wrapping up. I have asked Hagrid to collect them and they should arrive here at the castle rather late in the evening…"

Severus' eyes snapped up. "Wait. They'll be coming _here?_"

Dumbledore's brows rose and he look thoroughly surprised by the query. Which Severus thought was ironic considering the absurdity of it. _Muggles at Hogwarts?_

"Where else would you have them stay?"

Severus hadn't been sure. Part of him had thought that they would be stay at Headquarters. Certainly _that _made some semblance of sense. Not like bringing Merlin knows how many of these _Watcher _people into Hogwarts. Ally or not, they were an unknown, and to bring them into the school full of children would mean that somebody would have to keep a sharp eye on…

His eyes narrowed dangerously at that thought. Somebody _would _have to keep an eye on them.

Severus suddenly had a very good idea of why Albus had asked him there.

"Who, exactly, did you have in mind?" His tone was dark, daring even, and was met by smile that Severus was certain had been meant to seem apologetic, but most assuredly wasn't.

Nor did he have to elaborate; Albus understood exactly what he was asking.

"There is very little known about this particular organization and the details that we do have…" Albus nodded towards the book he'd given Severus. "are unfortunately inadequate. But, as you are aware, Mr. Travers has made it clear that they will involve themselves regardless of our input or how sound our arguments to the contrary may be. Therefore, keeping them nearby, where we can ensure that they will not fall into trouble, or cause any undue setbacks, is really our only reasonable recourse. Wouldn't you agree?"

Severus leaned back frowning for all he was worth and hoping against all hope that now would be the moment that looks really would kill. "Let me get this straight. You want to bring them here so that we - and by 'we', I assume you mean, 'me' - can keep an eye on them and make sure that they stay out of our way?"

He paused, watching Albus to see if he would disagree. It was a foolish notion and of course, and the old wizard merely stared back, twinkling and stroking his damnable beard.

"What am I to do; feed them just enough incomplete information to keep them busy while not giving them enough to actually prove a hindrance?"

Dumbledore had the audacity to look pleased. "Well, I hadn't thought of it quite like that, but that does sound like a most marvellous idea."

Severus fought the urge to growl. "And why ask me? Anyone else…_everyone else_…would be a more agreeable host…"

"That is the problem, Severus. I, more than anyone, understand how full your schedule is. But the others are _too_ agreeable. I need someone who will not be swayed; someone who will not allow themselves to be persuaded, influenced or otherwise won over. I need you. The others are friendly and would make diligent and, as you noted, agreeable hosts, but I fear that only you will remember the severity of allowing outsiders to become too deeply involved in this war."

Severus opened his mouth to argue. _Gods how he wanted to argue!_ But before even a single sound could escape his throat, his jaw snapped shut.

There was nothing he could say; there was too much truth to Dumbledore's words. So instead, he tucked his copy of "'Schmitt and Collins Complete Compendium of Universal Folklore" under one arm and abruptly left; sweeping with dramatic flourish out of the office.

Once back in his own office, Severus tossed the book on his desk and went straight for the furthest shelf. Opening a cupboard, he quickly snagged a bottle of fire whisky and a crystal snifter. Pouring himself two very healthy fingers, he slid elegantly into his seat and glared at the book's cover while taking generous sips of his beverage.

And there he sat; sipping and glaring, until his glass was empty.

Pouring two more fingers, he sat his glass down and flipped open the book to the marked pages. He was hesitant, of this he was aware. He did not want to read whatever it was the Dumbledore had marked for him for the sole reason that he didn't want to be involved in the whole "Watcher's Counsel" nonsense. And perhaps on some level he thought that if he didn't read whatever it was that the headmaster had so obviously wanted him to read, that the problem would cease to exist.

Ignore it and it will go away.

It was childish. He knew this as well as he knew that he would read the marked text regardless of any personal feelings on the matter.

And so read it he did.

Sorting through the pages was easy enough. Dumbledore had placed a plain, red bookmark between two pages and he could have found the required reading simply enough. Still, he flipped, sliding from one page to the next and noting that the book was divided alphabetically by subject.

He moved passed a section on 'Aliens', beyond the story 'Hansel and Gretel'. He flipped over a few more pages; "The Pied Piper of Hameln', 'Red Riding Hood.'

And right in between "Slavic Tales and 'Sleeping Beauty' laid the pages that Dumbledore had mark; the ones he wanted Severus to read.

"Slayer, The Legend of."

Regardless of his resistance in delving into this unknown world, the title sparked interest. Severus couldn't help that his eyes widened marginally at the title. Not that he would admit it.

Nor would he admit that he was, in fact, suddenly curious. Not hugely. Of course not. But there was a modicum of something that could be classified as 'mild interest' loosely forming in the depths of his frontal lobe.

Very mild.

Yet his eyes roamed the text with less hesitance.

_Into every generation a slayer is born: one girl in all the world. _

_A chosen one._

_She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their number. _

_She is the Slayer._

"Slayer?"

Severus let the word roll off his tongue. "Slayer…slayer…" He tried to place it, but couldn't. So he read more; scanning the pages for pertinent information.

_No living records….oral histories…tribal elders…heart, soul and spirit of a demon…_

Severus paused…heart soul and spirit of a demon? That didn't sound very promising.

_Watcher's Council is dedicated to finding, training and supporting Slayers…._

…_endowed with great strength…fast…agile…substantially more durable…._

Again Severus stopped, considering a creature that, according to the text, was born from a demon and was capable of superhuman feats of power and dexterity. "And Dumbledore invites her into Hogwarts. Bloody brilliant, that man is…"

_Despite these feats, the Slayer is far from invulnerable. _

Well, _that _was promising.

…_heightened immune….greater awareness… _

And so and so forth it went until Severus set the book aside and fell back in his seat, critically considering what he had just read.

So, Quentin Travers was the head of an organization formed to train and aid something called a slayer.

Correction: _The Slayer._

A girl with super-human powers whose destiny it is to fight…what did it say? Vampires, demons and the forces of darkness.

_The Slayer._

Severus felt a tug at his lips; the slightest touch of bemusement brightening his visage.

A supernaturally enhanced girl – _The Vampire Slayer_ – wants to go up against the Dark Lord. The image that such a thought generated - a young girl attempting to physically pummel one of the most evil wizards to ever walk the earth. It might work, until the shock wore of and the Dark Lord blasted the chit halfway across Britain.

Severus felt his lips part and he nearly laughed.

"Into each generation, one girl… A chosen one, no less!"

The smile left Severus' lips abruptly and his brows furled, the brightness gone as quickly as it had appeared. "A chosen one…"

_Another fucking chosen one!_

He closed the book with a little more force than necessary, not really believing what he had read, but knowing it didn't matter.

Pouring more whisky into his snifter, not bother to measure, he downed it in a single, smooth motion before quickly slamming the glass onto the table.

"Another chosen one to babysit?"

He slumped back into his chair with a resigned sigh. How he hated the idea! How many bloody 'chosen ones' could there possibly be? If any more popped up, they'd be forced to change the name. _Chosen few_, perhaps? Or maybe _Chosen Several_? hey could start their own order or counsel or…whatever.

Maybe then he would be left alone!

Another chosen one?

Severus shrugged. Like it or not, there was really very little to be done about it. As much as he would love to round-up all of those born under the assumption that there was anything particularly special about them and run them lemming-style off the nearest cliff, it rally _was _out of his hands.

At least he knew without a doubt that there was no way that _this _chosen one could cause even a modicum of the trouble that the returning fifth year was capable of.

Yes, no matter who the Slayer was, it would be a far easier task, indeed, when compared to Potter.

Easy as anything ever is.

And with that thought, Severus pulled out his still incomplete lesson plan, and set to task, prepared for a late night.

Anything would be easy after dealing with that brat and the annoying duo.

Anything at all.

* * *

Poor Severus. Dumbledore always expects so much from him. At least it makes for good stories...

Another MONGO thanks to _I'm secrectly annoyed with you, _aka 'Secrets' for her awsome beta-ing job! You're a rock star!

Thanks again for all the reviews, favs and follows - you have no idea how exciting it is for me to log on and see that kind of activity! And in case I don't get another chapter of before then, have a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Super Quanza, Uber Solstice or, ya know, whatevs.

F.I.


	4. Chapter 4

Head's up...actually, _two _head's ups...

This chapter was not Beta'd, so any and all mistakes I gladly own.

and

This is a long one - nearly 4k words - so take a bathroom break, grab a Coke, get comfy (I suggest sitting luxurioiusly in bed, propped up by at least a dozen pillows) and, of course, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Sitting on a plane and zipping through multiple time zones had done a number on Buffy's equilibrium.

Apparently her slayer stamina couldn't be bothered with international travel.

She also felt weird. The time didn't seem right. Part of her felt like she'd been on a plane for days, but it had really been a single, very long day. The longest day she'd ever experience, in fact.

Plus she was dirty. Being shoved in a compartment with a thousand people and their nasty germs did that to a person. She could only hope that her slayer immune system hadn't stayed behind with her stamina.

As if reading her thoughts, Willow dragged a hand through her red hair. "I want to shower…or at least wash my face."

"And need to find the little-Xander room and get rid of all that soda the airline attendants kept bringing around." It was a standard Xander quip, but with a notable lack of sarcastic energy.

"You didn't have to take one every time they came around. Just say no, Xander." Willow smiled weakly, before grimacing as her fingers worked a knot out of her hair.

"And miss out on free soda?"

The conversation was typical, as were Giles' eye rolls, but there was an obvious air of exhaustion surrounding the whole of the group.

There should have been anticipation, but they had just wondered lazily out of the jet bridge without any of the excitement they'd exhibited when boarding that first flight at Hopkins International.

On top of that, they had no knowledge whatsoever as to who would be meeting them or where they would find them.

Buffy decided that discovering their next move was Giles' job. He was the Watcher...the man with the plan; he could do the stuff with the thinking. She was just about to tell him as much, when a voice sounded from behind her.

"Is that all of yeh then?"

Under normal circumstances, Buffy would have been startled by hearing a voice – especially one with such a deep timbre – so close to the back of her head, but at the moment, she couldn't really be bothered.

And the voice really was close. Deep, Scottish and so close, in fact, that when she turned, she nearly rammed into…a stomach?

Taking a quick step back, she looked up.

And up.

She looked up until she was staring with craned neck into the bearded face of the largest man she'd ever seen. Bigger even than Olaf had been; and he had been a troll god.

Buffy scrunched her nose with that thought, taking another step back.

"That's good, I 'spose. Be easier to get us back to the castle in any case."

Giles moved to stand between Scottish-guy and Buffy; an unconscious, protective action that made her smile. Of the two of them, Buffy was not the one who needed protection.

"You're with the Ord…"

Scottish-guy quickly cut him off by raising a massive, meaty hand. "That's right. But, ah, you ought not say that too loud." He looked from Giles to Buffy and offered her a wink.

Buffy relaxed. The guy may be big, but at least he wasn't trying to smash in her skull with a hammer; a very _not _Olaf thing to do.

_That's right, Buffy; always look on the bright side._

The giant's proportionately small, dark eyes scanned over the group of four, nodding to each in turn though his thick brows narrowed slightly. "Thought there'd be more a yeh."

Giles took that moment to step up and Buffy was grateful not to take the lead on this one. She was pretty sure that her brain had turned to mush somewhere over the Atlantic.

"And…and you are?"

The confusion brought on by their apparently inadequate numbers slid instantly from the giant's face as he extended a hand which threatened to completely envelop her Watcher.

"Right. Sorry 'bout that." He leaned down and dropped his voice. Had Buffy not had enhanced hearing she wouldn't have been able to hear it. "I'm Rubeus Hargrid; was sent by the Order to collect you lot."

"Of course, Mr. Hagrid. Very nice to meet you. I'm Rupert Giles." He twisted at the waist and indicated with everyone else with a wave, introducing them all individually.

"It's nice to meet you as well. But you can just call me Hagrid." He smiled, warm and welcoming, and Buffy couldn't help but smile back. Large he may be, but there was a gentleness behind the set of his face that was unmistakable. Not only was he not attempting to crush her, he might even be pleasant company.

One could only hope.

He turned with a nod of his head, leading them from the gate and through the airport and Buffy noted two things right off. The milling crowds parted, leaving Hagrid, as well as herself and the others, a very wide birth. She supposed this was to be expected; the guy made Paul Sturgess seem positively puny! But something was…off…

The crowed parted, but they didn't, otherwise, seem to notice him.

And he was _very _noticeable.

_Interesting._

"Yeh look different than I expected." He offered suddenly, directing his statement to Giles.

In response he received a raised brow from her Watcher and at her side Xander snickered. "Yea. Giles is the one who looks…different."

Willow turned her stern gaze in his direction, shushing him instantly.

"What? The guy's _big_!"

That earned him a smack to the shoulder and an exasperated eye roll.

Luckily, Hagrid seemed oblivious, though Buffy was pretty certain by the set of her Watcher's mouth that Giles had heard everything.

Hagrid nodded, still caught in his thought. "I guess I thought you'd be a bit taller and a mite…larger."

Now it was Buffy's turn to snicker, though she hid it well behind a small cough. She was pretty sure she knew were this was going.

She peeked over at her friends thinking to clue them in, but despite the small amount of dialogue they'd just exchanged, they were dead on their feet. Xander was making a half-hearted attempt to take in the foreign airport, but Willow was leaning heavily on him and looked to be half-asleep.

"I imagine most people would seem rather small to you." Giles offered, though his confusion was clear in his tone. "No offense."

"I also thought yeh'd be younger."

At that Giles frowned and Buffy had to bite her lip to suppress another laugh.

"Though I s'pose with age comes experience."

And off came the glasses.

"I…I…I assure you that, as far as Watchers go, I am in my prime."

Buffy's eyes shot back to Hagrid where she saw a series of expected, and amusing, expressions cross his bearded face.

Befuddled confusion.

Thoughtful reflection.

Careful consideration.

And, at long last…

Dawning understanding.

"Oi. You're not the Slayer, then?"

Hagrid's progressive facial exhibition was than mirrored on the face of her Watcher, only at a much faster rate, and Buffy couldn't help but snort loudly.

"No…of course not." He glanced back at Buffy, who did little to hide her delight and the giant's misconception.

Giles appeared nearly as amused – a sure sign of jet-lag - and looked to say something, possibly introduce the other man to the actual Slayer, when his attention was instantly diverted and he pointed towards one of the many large hallways surrounding them.

"Baggage claim for our carrier is this way."

"Your bags are all taken care of." Hagrid replied, looking a little pleased with himself. "Probably already at Hogwarts."

Buffy took the pause in their forward momentum to saddle up next to them, leaving the less chatty of her companions behind. "At where?"

Hagrid swooped over, probably so that she wouldn't pull a muscle trying to look him in the eyes. "Ah…Buffy was it?"

She nodded and again couldn't help a small smile from forming on her lips. There was something so likeable about this man.

Hagrid answered her with a puffed up chest and obvious pride in his voice. "We'll be going to Hogwarts, School of Wwitchcraft and Wizardry."

"Oh. Sounds…sanitary and not at all weird."

Hagrid smiled, though Buffy wasn't sure if it was at her joke or if he mistook her comment for some kind of insight. "Tha's right."

"And am I to assume that's where the Order of the Phoenix is stationed?"

"Shhhhh!" Hagrid rose to his full-height and Buffy's eyes widened at the impressiveness of it. She remained silent as he scanned their surroundings with clear suspicion.

Satisfied with whatever he did, or didn't, see, Hagrid leaned back down. "I'm not really supposed to say too much. You'll have to save yer questions for Professor Dumbledore…."

_Okay…_

"So this…Hogwarts…" Buffy lowered her voice, earning an appreciative grin. "That's here? London?"

At that the large man laughed, a hearty, rumbling sound that startled Willow out of her near-stupor. "Ach, no. We'll not be staying here. We're going to Scotland."

This gained Xander's attention, and for the first time since being introduced, he spoke. "Scotland?"

He sounded excited; nearly as much so as when they first learned they were making the trip. "As in _'Xander McXander of the McXander clan' _Scotland?"

Hagrid brows dipped. "Uh, I think so."

"Scotland is where we Harris' hail from. It'll be cool to see the mother country." His smile was big and goofy, and Hagrid nodded, apparently pleased with the announcement.

"'Tis a magical land. I'm sure you'll love it. Though we will have to do some walking."

"Walking?"

Buffy wasn't exactly keen on her geography - she often got lost trying to track down the nearest Starbucks - but she was pretty certain that Scotland wasn't near London. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, it was a whole different country.

Maybe _walking _was Scottish for _commuter plane?_

"Not too far, mind yeh; just 'round the block a bit. We should be there within twenty minutes or so."

Or maybe Buffy didn't know her geography as well as she thought.

"How, exactly, are we getting to our destination?" Giles sounded as curious as Buffy was perplexed and she turned her attention towards their host, waiting for the reply.

"Well, yeh see…." Hagrid placed one of his hands on his chin, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "We call it 'travel by floo'.

Buffy had never heard of anything like that before, and seeing as that seemed to be all he had to say on the subject, her next question was only logical. "Which is _what _exactly?"

Too bad the response wasn't.

"Which is…uh…exactly like it sounds."

Buffy chewed on her bottom lip, trying to consider what that meant, before she shrugged. "Really, 'cuz it doesn't really sound like anything of the sense to me." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "But it was a _really _long flight…"

She was a little surprised to see that Giles looked as confused as she felt. That meant that whatever "floo" was, it wasn't common British speak.

British speak... Britsih talk? British-ese?

Buffy shook her head, riding it of intruding, tired thoughts.

"Can you explain this 'floo travel'?" Giles asked, pushing open the terminal door. "I'm not familiar with it."

They walked out of the airport and were hit by cool, damp air and the distinctive smell of exhaust.

Buffy attempted to look around, take in a little of the city, but there simply wasn't anything to see this close to the airport. The only big distinction were the accented voices surrounding them and the very disconcerting fact that people in Great Britain really do drive on the wrong side of the road.

"Yeh know…floo's. You go into one, out another. It's kinda like…"

Buffy flinched as two cars passed each other. She'd expected them to collide. This reverse-driving would take a _whole lot_ of getting used to.

"If you could explain what a "floo" is to begin with, perhaps then…

Buffy peeled her eyes away from the confusing traffic patterns and chose to look up and out instead, trying to see if she could see anything worthwhile. London Bridge, Big Ben…

"…well, I s'pose it's like…like… Have yeh ever squeezed toothpaste outta a tube?"

But it was already dark, and though she could tell that there were tons of lights, the air was heavy with fog.

"Are you saying that traveling through a "floo" is akin to…squeezing a tube of toothpaste?"

Buffy sighed, a little put out by the dark and the fog. There'd be no site seeing for her that night.

"Yes." Hagrid stop at a curb, looking right, left and then right again before starting across. "But, not really."

Buffy laid a hand on her frustrated Watcher's arm. He wasn't the type of person to like not knowing something. "We'll see soon enough." She said, and linked her arm through his.

"Floos and Hogwarts and phoenixes…or is it phoenixi?" Buffy shook her head. "Either way, we'll see soon enough. We'll arrive, we'll slay some bad guys and then maybe we can hang for a bit, take in some of the Old World?"

"Phoenixi is not a word, and honestly I do not think that you're taking this situation as seriously as you should. This is not a vacation and we would not have been asked to come if the situation were not dire."

"Psh!" Buffy waved a flippant hand, effectively blowing off her Watcher's warning. "What's to do, Giles? I've handled some über badness in my day and this time I'll have a bunch of wizards to help. Grateful wizards too."

A mischievous smile spread across her face as she glanced sideways at Giles. "Do you think they'll grant me a wish after I wrapped up whatever problem they're calling me in for?"

Giles scoffed and attempted to look offended, but the slight tug at his lip showed his amusement. "They're wizards, Buffy, not genies. And you should know by now that anything that grants wishes has only the worst intentions."

As always, Giles was right. No wishes for Buffy. "Oh well. At least it will be something to add to my résumé, and who knows; maybe I'll get an international pen pal out of the deal. Although, I'm much better with the text than pen. Is there a such thing as 'text-pals?"

"Here we are, then." Hagrid stopped in front of the red door of what looked to be a very old, stone… condo?

Buffy leaned back, looking to the right and left and noted similar doors on either side sandwiched between windows in a specific pattern. _Door, window, window, door..._

"Wizard's live in condominiums with strict red-door instructions from their HOA. Who knew!"

"There town homes, Buffy." Giles corrected, just as Hagrid pulled an umbrella out from somewhere beneath his coat and used it to knock on the door, tapping in what seemed to Buffy to be a specific cadence.

"This is a secondary home of a wizard known well to the Order." He knocked on the door a second time using the exact same rhythm as before. "But I do not think that most a these…condos, as yeh called it…have wizard residents. This is a primarily muggle part of London."

Buffy frowned wondering at the term 'muggle'.

Hagrid waited another moment, then knocked a third time before replacing the umbrella.

And just as his coat fell back into place, the red door creaked open. He turned, bowing slightly as he extended an arm, biding them entrance.

"Are yeh ready to see Hogwarts?"

"Ready as I'll ever be"

And with that they stepped over the threshold.

Buffy felt a revived sense of anticipation, but almost instantly she found herself frowning again. "Where's the…who…" She turned to look at Hagrid who was staring expectantly back at her. "Who opened the door?"

Hargid seemed a little confused by the question. "I did."

Buffy shook her head, deciding it wasn't worth further questioning. Obviously she was going to have to learn to take some things for granted and she doubted she could formulate the appropriate question at that point anyway. Instead, she stored her _self-opening door _questionsaway with her previously formed _invisible Moses _querries.

Satisfied that he'd answered Buffy fully, Hargid turned and motioned for the others to follow him.

The house was surprisingly large on the inside. Even though it was dark, lit only by a few candles, she could see well how spacious it was. They moved through a large entrance hall that reminded her sadly of her home in Sunny Dale. To the left was a kitchen big enough to eat it, and straight ahead a wide staircase.

Hagrid led them through a set of double-doors to the right, and into a fairly standard, if rather bare, living room. Buffy couldn't help but wonder what they were doing there. Sure the house was big, but not big enough to hold Scotland.

Maybe they'd be staying for the evening?

Before she could ask one way or the other, Hagrid led them to a fireplace located on the far side of the room where he turned to face them with his arms held out. "What I tell yeh? Floo travel!"

He was smiling as though something he just did explained away all of their earlier confusion. Buffy's eyes caught Giles' and he shrugged.

Buffy looked from her Watcher and back to Hargid. "Wha..what?"

Hagrid's face fell a bit and he dropped his arms to his side before scratching his head. "Right here." He said, pointing towards the fireplace. " ."

"Great." Buffy said eyeing the fireplace suspicously and not feeling particularly _great _at all.

"So, how does this work."

* * *

Panic.

It was the first thing she felt after taking a small, awkward step over the bottom mantle of the old, stone fireplace and into the large firebox.

When the process of floo travel was explained, Buffy had trouble hiding her disbelief. She may have even expressed this… a little.

"Um, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not Santa Clause and these guys…" She used a hand to indicate her Watcher and friends in turn. "Well, they sure as hell aren't elves."

Buffy had seen and done a lot of remarkable things, so she wasn't about to discredit the possibility of stepping into a fireplace in London and ending up in a school somewhere in the Scottish Highlands.

Not entirely.

And though Buffy knew less about physics than she did geography, she was still pretty sure that something about the mechanics of such travel, couldn't really be possible.

Of course her _personal _physics shouldnt't be possible either. Yet there she stood.

In front of a fireplace.

About to go all Chris Cringle up in it.

Her companions seemed equally perplexed and, in the case of Willow and Xander, a lot nervous, so she realized pretty quick that it was she who would have to get the ball rolling and make the first attempt at the strange, the new and the hugely disconcerting.

Sometimes being the Slayer sucked.

"Yeh just take a bit o that black powder there. Throw it like tha' and tell the floo were it is you want to go."

With a deep breath Buffy did as her behemoth escort bid, just in the manner he'd told her to. "Albus Dumbledore's office." And without even a slight backwards glance, she stepped inside.

It wasn't painful.

That she could have dealt with.

But there was pressure; pushing, pulling, squeezing, expanding, contracting, and she couldn't see anything but an overwhelming and fully consuming black.

And that was when the anxiety set in.

For Buffy, this was an all too familiar sensation and it brought with it unwelcomed memories; memories that flooded her instantly.

_The sky was ripping apart, a black hole in the black night…and the energy… God, she could feel it! Dark, evil, and it was going to keep growing until it swallowed the whole world._

_But for Buffy, that was a secondary concern._

_Dawn, her baby sister, stood at edge of the precipice of a hastily and ill constructed scaffolding, sobbing. Blood dripped freely down her arm, urging the hole to open fully._

"_Buffy…" _

_Dawn's eyes were wide, frightened. She understood that she was the key. She understood what that meant. It was her blood that opened the portal; her blood would be needed to close it. And that meant…_

_Buffy caught her sister's eyes and she slowly shook her head. "No!"_

"_I have to jump. The energy…"_

"_It'll kill you!"_

_Dawn tried to stand a little taller, to look brave. It broke Buffy's heart._

"_I know, Buffy, I know about the ritual! I have to stop it."_

"_No!" It seemed to be all Buffy could manage to say, but her mind was running, going through scenario after scenario. She could fix this; it's what she did. It was her job to save the world and she would do it at any cost. _

_But not this._

"_I have to! Look at what's happening!" No sooner do those words leave Dawn's mouth then the rift opened wider and things begin to fly out._

_Unimaginable things. Evil things._

"_Buffy…"_

"_I don't care! Dawn, I won't lose you…"_

"_You have to! You have to let me go! Blood starts it, and until the blood stops flowing it'll never stop. You know what you have to let me…"_

_Buffy can feel her sister's despair and she knows that she will not let this happen. _

"_Buffy, it has to have the blood."_

_She was right. It has to have the blood. The world will end as two realms collide if it doesn't have the…_

_And then it hits her: realization._

_She remembers Spike's words back at the Magic Box. "It's always blood…"_

_She remembers the vision of her and Dawn's bloody hands entwined as Buffy spoke to her of Summers' blood._

_She remembers her own words as she explained what Dawn was. "They made her from me."_

_She remembers the First Slayer and the single statement that had haunted her since that strange encounter. "Death is you gift."_

_Blood._

_They made her from me._

_Death..._

"…_is my gift."_

_Buffy's brow furls as those words repeat over and over in her consciousness – blood, death, gift – swirling around with the gathering debris caught in the churning gale._

_And then everything is quiet. _

_The wind is still raging, she can feel it on her skin, blowing tendril's of her sister's long, dark hair about her distressed face; but she doesn't hear it._

_At the edge of the scaffolding, just beyond her sister, Buffy see's Angel. She doesn't know why he's there, but it feels right. _

_Behind him the sun is just starting to rise, but she's not worried for him. Somehow she knows that where she's going, the sun cannot burn him._

_And she feels…serene…_

_Another rumble shakes her from her strange revere; the approaching apocalypse comes rushing back, but she's not afraid. _

_Not anymore. _

_She turns back to Dawn and as soon as their eyes meet, she has no doubt that her little sister knows._

"_Buffy…no…"_

"_Dawnie, I have to…"_

"_No!"_

_Buffy grabs her, pulling her close. "There's no time, Dawn. Listen to me. I love you. I'll always love you. But this is the work I have to do. Tell Giles I…I figured it out. And I'm okay. Give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now…you have to take care of each other. You have to be strong, Dawn. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it."_

_Buffy takes a moment to memorize her sister's face, wiping away her tears before kissing her. "Be brave. Live. For me."_

_And then she turns and runs. She runs towards Angel, towards the rising sun, all the way to the end of the scaffolding and when she reaches it she doesn't hesitate._

_She dives._

The sensation of jumping into the floo was eerily similar to what she had felt when she'd dived into that hell hole just before she'd died.

She had known she was going to die; had come to terms with it mere moments before doing it. And truth be told, after her friends had brought her back, she'd spent months longing to be back where ever it had been that death had taken her.

Heaven?

But she had long since decided that living, for now, was a good thing, and on this occasion she was not so prepared for the end.

So when only seconds had passed after she stepped into the first fireplace and out of a second, her panic was quickly replaced by relief.

Immense relief.

And then by burning eyes and a lung full of dust.

Whipping the soot from her eyes, her only thought was how little she cared for her introduction to the wizarding world when a kind yet authoritative voice sounded from right in front of her.

"Ah, Ms. Summers, I presume? Please allow me to be the first to welcome you to wizarding Britain and, of course, to Hogwarts."

* * *

A note for those of you not into basketball, Paul Sturgess is one of the (if not _the_) tallest b-ballers in the world. You know, _Tall Paul - _from the UK? Plays for non other than the Harlem Globetrotters?

Oh well...

Anyway, he's about 7'7", so he's all about the tall.

Thank all of you who are following or have favorited this story. And thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! I love them so much and look forward to reading them every time I log in. If I haven't responded to you directly, it's because there is not an option to do so. I don't know why. Just know that I have read them all and they work really well as a motivator.

Next chapter we will see the meeting of our two MCs, Buffy and Severus... It should be, interesting :)

I will try to have it up by the end of the week, but there is an aweful lot of fresh powder on the slopes these days...


	5. Chapter 5

_I am on the hunt for a Beta, if any of you are interested. The biggest thing is that I need someone who is knowledgeable about Harry Potter as my strength is more with Buffy._

_Please PM me if you're interested. _

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Dumbledore waved his arm with practiced flourish, producing a four-foot long sheet of parchment for all of the other Order members present.

All save the one currently encouraged to remain in k-9 form.

Severus eyed the parchment curiously, but quickly set it aside when he realized what is was.

A history – a very concise one at that – beginning with the Dark Lord's first rise and fall and picking back up with the sordid events that had transpired at the World Cup just weeks before.

A succinct chronology with a few useful bullet-points, written without flair or emotion.

There was nothing written that wasn't either common knowledge within the wizarding community or that couldn't be learned by a small amount of research.

Except for the last bit, anyway.

The last foot of parchment was dedicated to the Order specifically. Severus ran his fingers delicately over the script and felt the slightest tingle of magic. His lips rose infinitesimally.

Dumbledore was Gryffindor through and through - no one could deny that - but every once in a while the sneaky bastard did something that was absolutely Slytherin.

"This is a copy of the information I provided to our guests last evening before they retired." Dumbledore moved to stand near the fire where Sirius lay; the latter's tail thwumping with grating consistency on the rug near the hearth.

Lupin leaned forward in his seat, setting his copy on the table and rubbing his chin, clearly agitated. "Do you think it wise to provide written information about the Order, sir?"

Severus rolled his eyes as he folded his arms on the table in front of him. It would have been a legitimate question if the answer hadn't been so ridiculously obvious.

"Do you honestly think that Dumbledore would hand over written proof of the Order's existence without thought or purpose?" Minerva scoffed, her expression nearly pained and her voice held about as much patience as Severus currently felt. "It's spelled."

Lupin looked at it again, running a hand over it in much the same way as Snape had. "Yeah…I can feel…something."

_This was the man Dumbledore chose to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?_

For the briefest of moments Minerva met Severus' eyes and in that moment they shared a connection; one brought about by the mutual acknowledgement that a third party has done or said something thoroughly ignorant.

While nobody would ever accuse Severus and Minerva of having more than the narrowest strips of common ground on which they could stand, neither could abide ignorance in even the smallest degrees.

But than Sirius growled, their connection was broken, and the moment was lost.

Dumbledore, far more longsuffering than either Severus or Minerva could ever claim to be, simply nodded at Lupin's mild discovery.

"That _something _would be a very useful spell. It works twofold: anyone viewing the parchment that isn't recognized by the integrated wards – as set by me – will only see a continuation of the previous history rather than Order information. Also, the reader who can correctly interpret the full document will have a very strong desire to keep that information to themselves; only able to discuss it among those who are already privy."

Though Severus would never admit it aloud, he knew that it was an impressive bit of spell work. Certainly it sounded simple in context, yet it was anything but.

Selective wards, misleading text and suggestive magic were not easy to achieve on their own; getting them to work together require a truly comprehensive understanding and a delicate balance of all three.

Not all magics complemented each other and some require a great deal of magic to coordinate. Which was why Lupin's comments were received with such disdain.

Severus looked at the parchment again, ignoring the top part and focusing on that final foot.

_The Order of the Phoenix_

_Re. Est. 1995 in opposition of Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. _

_To campaign against hostile take-over, to prevent the persecution of Muggle-borns, and to protect Muggles._

_It is the duty of the Order to combat the threat of Lord Voldemort and his assaults and to prevent the spread of his terror._

It was vague, offering information without really saying anything at all.

How very like Dumbledore.

And from there it went on to name key members, including those currently present (save Sirius) without any indications as to what they do.

Severus rolled up his nice, neat and wholly uninformative parchment, thinking to stuff it away in his robes when the whole thing went up in a small ball of flames, disintegrating instantly and leaving Severus to fan away bits of ash with singed fingers.

"Oh yes…" Dumbledore added with a smile. "I forgot to tell you about the _other _spell. Once you have finished with it, the parchment will get rid of itself."

Severus eyed the older wizard dangerously, fighting the urge suck the burns on his fingertips. "That is the kind of information that you offer _first._"

"What are we expecting these people to be able to do?" Minerva asked, ignoring the pouting potion's master while carefully depositing her copy of the parchment in the fire.

Dumbledore shrugged. "There are many elements that will go into the answer of such a query. It very much depends on their capabilities…of which I know little. The important thing at this moment, however, is that we do not volunteer any information which could be considered…sensitive."

Both Lupin and Minerva looked confused. And for good reason. While Severus had been made party to Dumbledore's true feelings on the Watcher's Council's involvement, the other two had heard only that help was coming.

A light seemed to flash somewhere behind Minerva's eyes as she peered through her spectacles, though. She'd worked beside Dumbledore for more years than Severus had been alive. She may not know _what _he was scheming, but she was probably fairly confident that there was something else going on. "What do you mean?"

Severus decided that it was time to step in.

"If I may, Professor?"

At Dumbledore's nod, Severus faced Lupin and Minerva, purposely turning his back to Sirius. "We know very little about the Watcher's Council or the Slayer whom they represent…"

"We know that they're of the light." Lupin snuck in, but Severus continued as though he hadn't spoken.

"…aside from the fact that this Slayer typically focuses her energy on vampires and the like. Though I think it utter rubbish, Dumbledore has agreed to their help. But this could be potentially problematic."

"How so?"

Severus glowered at Lupin. "We deal with highly sensitive information, Lupin. Have you any idea what could happen if Order secrets fell into the wrong hands?"

Lupin shook his head. "But theirs aren't the wrong hands. That's what my point is. They're good! They want to help and limiting what we tell them could prove a mistake."

Leaning back, Severus thrummed his fingers on the table, once, twice, before he continued to glare at the other man. He stared silently for a moment before continuing in a deceptively calm voice. "Do you know what a Slayer does, Lupin?"

"We've already discussed this."

"She reacts."

Lupin threw his hands in the air. "Do you not have the ability to just say what you mean, Snape?"

"Certainly, Lupin." Severus spat, no longer bothering with calm…deceptive or otherwise. "When she, a single girl, rushes into her battle with a very powerful and completely bent dark wizard surrounded by an army of Death Eaters, how long do you think it will take before they've subdued her?"

"You're point?"

Severus' voice dropped as he fell dramatically back in his seat. "My point is that when they do – and if she faces them, they will - do not think for a moment that they wouldn't be able to pull all of those Order secrets straight out of her brain, regardless of any spells Dumbledore may cast urging her silence. Legilimency doesn't work that way."

He waited, watching Lupin and waiting for the blush of understanding. And when he saw it, he continued, composed, but with the same heat-laced voice as before. "A Slayer identifies the cause and she moves to eliminate it. She sees, she pounces. There is no strategy, there is no planning, there is only a reaction. "

Severus turned towards Dumbledore who smiled with that same damnable twinkling in his eyes, just as the outer door swung open, causing Sirius to jump and growl with surprise.

"True…but she's _really _good at the pouncing."

Severus nearly groaned as a slender blonde strode in followed by three others who each looked decidedly less chipper.

In fact, the eldest, was very close to fuming.

As three of them filed in, the blonde peeked back out of the door. "Thanks…ah…"

"Filch," Came the muffled answer. "Mr. Filch."

"Yes. Thank Mr. Filch, for showing us the way. It was…a… pleasure…I think."

The Severus couldn't see the old caretaker, but he could hear him grunt.

"And, Mr. Filch, do you think you could see what's the what with my room. You know, those things I mentions; getting a room with outlets, maybe an alarm clock and a, ah…I don't know…light switch?"

There was a moment of silence and then Severus could hear Filch's acerbic reply as he shuffled away. "I don't understand when you talk."

"It's just…Hair Dyer!" She called after him, but he guessed from the slump in her shoulders, that the caretaker had already disappeared into one of the numerous corridors.

With a small sigh, she stepped fully into the room. And sure enough, her hair fell around her in long, _wet_ tendrils, curling slightly at the ends.

Only one reason muggles would never fare well among wizards: no electricity to make up for the no magic bit.

"Hi!" The Blonde waved, her eyes lighting on each of the rooms occupants. Green eyes locked onto Severus for only a moment, but it was long enough for him to see that her smile was a ruse and Severus was instantly reminded of what she'd overheard.

She didn't look hurt or even really angry, but there was an almost tired annoyance etched into her smooth face.

"Name's Buffy Summers." She offered at length. "I would be the one who _sees_ and _pounces_?"

Lupin and Minerva both smiled, though neither managed to do so without looking sheepish. Sirius' tail twumped at a slightly more rapid pace, Dumbledore continued to smile and twinkle and Severus wondered yet again how close the man was from needing to be committed as he continued to scowl.

"Another thing about the Slayer." She said, closing the door softly behind her. "Surprisingly keen hearing."

"Obviously." Severus scathed when no one else bother to comment, though behind the bitter word he was slightly concerned. How much had she heard with her "surprisingly keen hearing"?

That would teach him to neglect casting a _muffliato_ charm.

"That is interesting, my dear." Dumbledore floated over to where she and her entourage stood, offering them a seat with a sweep of his arm and skillfully working around the tension. "I cannot wait to hear all about the things you are capable of. It's certain to be fascinating."

Severus scoffed again, a noise that snapped those green eyes right back in his direction. "Maybe later." She said, simply, returning her gaze to the headmaster. "Where's Hagrid?"

"Readying the Thestrals for the arrival of the students later today. I'm afraid he will not be present this morning."

"Thestrals?" The blonde asked, but Dumbledore waved her off.

"Another time."

Severus couldn't help but feel mildly put out by the giant's absence. Not that he card for Hagrid's company. Certainly not. But he also had things to do to prepare for the arrival of students that evening, yet here he missing another opportunity to be productive.

"For now, I believe that introductions are in order." Dumbledore moved from where he was standing to sit in a vacant chair between Severus and Minerva just as a house elf blinked onto the table, balancing an impressively sized tea service.

All four of the new comers jumped back, but Severus' eyes stayed on Buffy. She looked amused as she watched the tea and scones be quickly laid out.

Most muggles would have been surprised and fearful, but he imagined that if half of what he'd read about a Slayer is true, then she'd have seen much stranger.

And when the elf disapperated as quickly as it had appeared, she barely blinked.

Introductions were simple and polite, though Severus took the opportunity to sit back and study the Watcher people, taking special care not to let his eyes linger too long on anyone of them.

Subtly was a gift that he had in abundance.

The eldest, Rubert Giles, seemed polite enough. Thoughtful, with spectacles perched on his nose. Obviously a Watcher.

To his left sat a much younger man. This was the one called Xander and Severus couldn't decide what his purpose was. He seemed a little jumpy and maintained a lop-sided smile that made him look altogether ridiculous.

He probably wasn't important. Not a threat, but likely not much help either.

Rupert and Xander. Yes, those two were perfectly mundane. There was wisdom in the older man's eyes, but other than that…nothing.

But the girl, the one who _wasn't _the Slayer, he'd felt her even before he'd seen her.

She had been introduced as Willow, and if he hadn't already been told otherwise, he might have though she was the Slayer.

Power hummed from somewhere within her, roiling around like murky water behind a damn. Unmistakable, raw and, interestingly, suppressed.

Severus' nostril flared as his eyes narrowed. But what was even more curious was that it was the power of a witch.

When Willow had entered the room he noted first that she was perfectly average in size and height. She wore neutral colors and even her hair, red though it was, was muted by a simple cut. Next to the Slayer, she was barely noticeable.

She also looked nervous and Severus couldn't help but wonder what she was hiding that made her shift in uncomfortable silence.

And there was something else…something dark.

Severus narrowed his eyes further and leaned into his seat.

Oh yes! All that suppressed power…a lot of power. It bubbled under the surface, black…inky… He had met wizards and witches like that before, but they were hardly the type to demurely, almost shyly, enter a room.

This girl had performed a great deal of disturbingly dark magic, and somehow had managed to pull herself from its depth.

He felt a rumbling growl in his chest. It took very little for people like that to be consumed by that inner darkness. It never left, just waited for an opportunity to surface.

He looked sideways at Dumbledore, who no doubt would have come to the same conclusion.

Severus had been absently worried about the Slayer, about what she might do, how she would be able to work with the Order and how he would keep her in check. But now the witch seemed like a much larger problem.

In fact, the Slayer herself didn't really look threatening at all. Severus' first impression, aside from the keen observance he'd noted, was that she was small.

_Very small. _

He supposed under normal circumstances he wouldn't have considered her diminutive stature one way or another, but according to what he'd read, this girl was supposed to be capable of great feats of strength, agility and endurance.

He could barely suppress a scoff as he carefully scrutinized her.

This chit couldn't have been more than 155 centimeters in height; 160 at most. And if she weighed 45 kilos, it was strictly because her hair was wet.

The physiology of the girl compared to what she was supposed to be capable of defied logic. Of course, fairy tales did have a tendency to…embellish…at least a bit. Or, in this case, _a lot._

And her name was "Buffy". That hardly seemed fitting for someone who should instill fear in the hearts of the demonic underworld.

He continued his scrutiny as Dumbledore rambled on about Lord Voldemort and the Order, essentially repeating what he had written for them, when he noticed the she… Buffy… was doing much the same thing.

Her eyes lighted on everyone; weighing, gauging. And when her eyes moved to Severus, she met his gaze and unflinchingly stared right back at him.

And then she smiled.

It wasn't a shy, embarrassed smile. Nor was it decidedly friendly.

Not at all.

Small she might be, but there was a steady confidence about her that belayed her age.

When she had first walked into the room he guessed her to be in her early 20s, possibly not even out of her teens. But something wasn't right about that. There were no lines on her face, no graying of hair, but there was a weariness that usually only touched those who had lived a very long time. And there was something else... Wisdom, maybe?

Her body might have been 20, but her eyes were ageless.

When the contact was broken, it was he who eventually looked away. Something about her had surprised him. Which was, in of itself, surprising.

He recovered quickly, but not before a small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. And Severus wondered if keeping this girl out the affairs of the Order was going to all that simple at all.

* * *

_Let me know what you think. It's easy, just type a comment in the little box below. It takes like 3 seconds and really makes me happy._

_Happy writers are prolific writers!_

_F.I._


	6. Chapter 6

Two important things:

1. I want to give a shout out to _Luhh Vieira_ who has agreed to Beta this story for the time being. Not only is she great with the grammar/spelling but is super fantastic at helping with concepts. She has been a huge help and the story will definitely be better because of her involvement.

Thanks _Luhh_!

2. Some of you have brought up some questions that are very valid. I've decided that I'm going to answer them within the story rather than explain it up here. (So _dreameralways_, keep your eyes open!)

The only thing I can't explain is Quentin Travers. You're right, _dreamer_, he should be dead. When I wrote the first chapter I wasn't sure about the timing of the story and I boo-booed. I've pulled a Willow and raised Travers from the dead while doing some classic Potter memory modifications along with it so that no one has a clue about my bout with necromancy.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"I think this is going to be trickier than we thought."

Buffy cringed into her bathroom mirror, tugging at a long lock of hair and letting it fall back into place. _No Breck girl for me, _she thought, casting a remorseful look at her worthless hairdryer before walking back into the bedroom.

"Tell me about it!" Xander exclaimed with exaggerated irritation. "You'd think, with that attitude, that they don't even want your help."

Jumping onto Buffy's bed, he slid in next to a cross-legged Willow. "But hey, they made me a teacher! So I'm guessing these Order people are a few wands short of a….of a…They are not the brightest wizards in the…"

"They're one witch short of a coven?" Willow offered helpfully.

"That's right." Xander smiled, patting Willow affectionately on the head. "Which may mean they'll be easier to crack than they seem."

"Hmm. Maybe" Buffy stood at the foot of her bed taking another appraising look at the small room. The décor was nice - big bed, nice furniture - and she didn't have to share a bathroom, which was always a plus in her book. But there were things she couldn't quite figure out.

Like how to turn the fireplace on and off. There wasn't a switch, so she guessed it was probably on a timer or, possibly, a thermostat. But there was no little knob on the wall to control it.

Then there were the lights.

When her, Willow and Xander had walked into the room it had lit up instantly, just as it had for Buffy the evening before. It was something that Buffy was grateful for since she had yet to discover an actual light-source, but that didn't stop her from scratching her head.

And she still hadn't found a way to use her other electronics.

She hoped that the lighting in all the castle was as dim as it was in her room because she doubted that she'd pass scrutiny under anything other than mood-lighting.

Vampires and demons might think they're the big bad, but they had nothing on fluorescent lighting.

Her cell phone, too, seemed out of commission. This was even more worrisome than flat hair seeing as her precious phone was her only means of communicating with Dawn. She needed to find a solution to this problem and fast. Dawn would be waiting in her dorm on Sunday at 9am for the weekly check in and Buffy had no intention of missing it.

Dawn may think that the campus at Penn State was safe and secure, but Buffy still needed to hear her voice at least once a week. A quick phone call was Buffy's only means of ensuring that Baby Sister's roommate really wasn't a demon, _or_ that none of the teacher's had turned into bug-people, _or_ that she hadn't been kidnapped and offered for sacrifice by evil frat boys, _or _that there was no chance that the youngest Summers girl had been infiltrated into any kind of covert military faction.

And no matter what anyone said about her being over-protective and unreasonable, they could hardly argue with Buffy's logic when she offered the simple reply of _'it happens.'_

Because...it really _does _happen.

"Yea, they were a little close-lipped." Willow shrugged, bringing Buffy's attention back to the matter at hand. "But we've worked with less before, and it's kind of exciting to be someplace so…different."

Buffy picked up her useless phone, noting that the screen was still blank before tossing it on a lamp-less, alarm clock-less nightstand. "I'm happy for you, Will. I think this will be…good. _For you_."

"Little Willow's gonna learn grown up magic." Xander nudged her with his shoulder, earning him an affectionate grin from the red-head.

Buffy slouched on the foot of the bed, facing the other two and laying a hand on Willow's knee. "I am happy that you get to do this."

And she really was. This was a huge opportunity for the red-headed witch. But what remained unspoken was Buffy's concerns that had nothing to do with Willow and everything to do with the Order.

Their meeting hadn't gone completely as anticipated; starting with Buffy being insulted and ending so abruptly that surprise didn't even begin to cover how she'd felt.

And the stuff in-between had been so insubstantial that the only thing she could do is wonder _why_.

"They're not telling us everything."

Those had been her words to Giles just before they parted ways, the former heading for the castle's library with barely concealed excitement.

Xander and Willow had been a few paces behind, both enraptured in their own conversation. Giles had leaned down, quietly responding for Buffy's ears only. "I think that would be a _gross _understatement. But let us not ruffle too many feathers. We need to understand exactly what we're up against."

"And why the Order would want to withhold information." Buffy whispered back.

Giles merely shrugged. "Honestly, Buffy, there are probably several reasons, some of which may be justifiable."

Buffy leveled her Watcher with a skeptical glare which he chose to ignore. "At least from their perspective. You know as well as anyone where trusting the wrong people will get you."

Buffy hadn't been able to argue with that. She'd _wanted _to, but there was entirely too much truth in that simple statement.

"Yeah, well, I don't fancy hanging out in wizard-land for the next few decades as we slowly unravel the mystery that is Voldemort."

"Agreed." Giles said, just before they parted ways. "Which is why I plan on taking full advantage of my new post."

And with a wink, he was off to do his research thing.

She understood that they were a secret organization. She understood what that meant. But such knowledge didn't prevent her from feeling a little discouraged at the impressive amount of brush-off she'd received.

After she'd walked in on being called, essentially, a brainless kicker of ass, a stigma that smarted more and more over time, Dumbledore had spent a very short amount of time reiterating what she'd already read from that rolled up paper he'd given her; the same piece of paper that had gone "poof" after she'd read it, much to her surprise and amusement.

And then, before she knew it, she and her friends were being dismissed.

"I think that will do for now. Ms. Summers, Mr. Giles, it was a pleasure…"

Though Buffy had been feeling slightly jittery from the more than twenty-four hours of inactivity, the old wizard with the wacky hat had been doing a superb job of lulling her into a dead-stare state. It was similar to the way she used to feel at school on mornings after a long night of slaying; not exactly tired, but certainly not engaged.

But Dumbledore's words had been enough to snap her to attention.

"Wha…wait. Is that it?"

The man's bushy, white brows arched up and Buffy got the distinct impression that he found something she said entertaining. "That was quite a lot."

"You gave me a name and some background. I'm going to need to know a lot more if I'm going to help you bring this guy down."

"Oh?" Came a slithery reply from Dumbledore's left.

It was the dark one, Snape, that spoke, and Buffy felt her hackles rise when her eye's darted his way. He'd only said "oh", but the guy had been sending not-so-subtle insults her way since, well, before she'd even walked in the room. It was starting to piss her off.

Not that she'd let him know.

"What is it, Ms. Summers, that you feel you need to know?"

His voice was calm and smooth, but there was an unmistakable bite to his words.

A great, dark snake.

Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that everything he said seemed to be directed at either insulting her or making her feel stupid, Buffy probably would have found a great appreciation for the deep, rich baritone. But every time he opened his mouth she felt as though she were being baited and, as a result, his words were starting to grate.

She didn't know what the Snake guy's angle was, but she was positive that she was going to find out.

"Try _everything_!"

Snape simply arched a brow; an action as polished and eloquent as any word. "It is not often that one would concede such ignorance. Commendable, Slayer."

Oh yea, she was he was definitely _not _feeling the love.

What she could feel was Giles tense next to her, but Buffy wasn't about to give the jerk any indication that his words bothered her.

So she placed a calming hand on her Watcher's arm, and she ignored the nasty barb.

"What's this guy capable of? What's his known weaknesses? Where's he at or, in the very least, how do we draw him out?"

Buffy was addressing Snape's question, but she was appealing to all of the four wizards present - searching them out, trying to determine who would be the most helpful - when her eyes landed on the one named Lupin.

He shifted with slightly furrowed brow looking…_conflicted…maybe_? Buffy smiled inwardly. He might be the weak link or he might just be nervous. She hoped it was the first, but she could work with either.

_That's right, buddy, you can't fool the Slayer. I know what you are._

"And, how do you guys fit into this? Why are a handful of teachers the only ones doing anything? Don't get me wrong, I totally get that the world is full of unlikely heroes, but I was lead to believe that all wizards, including your government, are in the know here. Why aren't they the ones that I'm sitting with now?"

She had no doubt that all of her questions were legitimate, but the tightly closed lips of her hosts were a clear sign that she was going to have to work for answers.

Dumbledore smiled in a way that once again made his eyes twinkle; something that Buffy was starting to find irritating, though she wasn't sure why.

"Today was for introductions, Ms. Summers. However, I can see your point. I suggest that we call a full Order meeting. I will introduce you to all of the Order of the Phoenix, not just the, ah _teachers,_and fill you in at that time."

Buffy chewed her lip thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes on the Headmaster. "Why?"

Three head's shot in her direction. She hadn't thought her question was all that rude, but the attention it drew was surprising. If Buffy had been prone to bouts of self-consciousness, her face probably would have flamed at the sudden intense attention.

But only Snape spoke, his deep, sonorous voice holding a hint at a warning. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, why wait?"

"This is a very delicate…" Dumbledore began, but Buffy waved him off.

"Straight answers are fine."

Buffy and Dumbledore spent a short moment blinking at each other, before Snape stood, linking his arms behind his back and pacing around the table to loom over the Slayer.

She swallowed as she took in his hovering form. If she'd been glad about not being self-conscious, she was ecstatic that she was tough to intimidate. Everything about this man was threatening with seemingly no effort on his part.

"As you have pointed out, Ms. Summers, we are but mere teachers, and in a few short hours our students will be arriving. While I'm sure that this means very little to you, myself and Professor's McGonagall, Lupin and Dumbledore have to split our time between our duties here and our work with the Order. "

Buffy's neck was craned back and she pushed aside the desire to swallow again. "I still don't understand…"

"Please refrain from interrupting me." Snape's eyes constricted dangerously at that point and Buffy found herself leaning away from him.

Odd that he would have such an effect considering some of the things she'd faced. But she also had the distinct impression that he'd had a lot of practice bullying people.

And what is it you're supposed to do with a bully? Her mom had always said to ignore them and they'll go away, but that wasn't really possible at the moment. So Buffy did the only thing she could think of.

She smiled.

"You're busy, I get it."

"With the students arriving today, that term is hardly adequate."

Buffy clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Tell ya what, I'll give you some time to get the kidos settled. But I do expect a little one-on-one Q and A session just as soon as you can fit it into that tight..." Buffy slide her eyes up and down Snape's hovering form, smirking when she met his eyes once more. "...schedule of yours."

The dark-haired wizard's nostrils flared slightly, but he merely nodded before turning back towards his seat.

"Now that we've cleared that up…" Dumbledore made a move to stand when another question was posed, this one coming from the Deputy Headmistress.

"There is one thing, Headmaster."

Dumbledore relaxed back into his seat, motioning for her to continue.

"How are we going to explain this?"

Buffy had no idea what _this _needed explaining, but it was apparent by the way Dumbledore bobbed his head that he was seriously considering the query.

Snape also seemed in agreement. "It's a valid concern, Headmaster. Muggles traipsing about the castle will be noticed by the students and other faculty. How do we explain their presence?"

_Ah. So that was what McGonagall was talking about. The running amok of muggles._

_Muggles?_

That term seemed to come up a lot since she'd first met Hagrid at the airport in London and it always seemed to be directed at her and her friends. Buffy wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"What's a muggle?"

"I was just wondering that too." Xander said, speaking for the first time. "It sounds kind of…"

"Derogatory?" Willow supplied, and Xander nodded.

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "No, no. There is nothing unseemly about the word; it is simply a term that wizards use to refer to non-magical humans."

Buffy scrunched her nose. "I can think of several words that are _simply terms _that one group uses to refer to another…none of them are really nice."

"Maybe you could call us N.M.H.'s." Xander supplied helpfully, but Buffy wasted no time shaking her head.

"No, thank you! I've had enough military-sounding acronyms to last a life-time."

Xander nodded towards her in acquiescence. "Okay, what about "the un-magicals". Oh, or "magicless-es"?

Willow laughed. "You don't want to be called "muggle" but you're cool with "magicaless-es"?"

"As fascinating as this is…" Snape's silky voice contemptuously cut through the commentary, "...we still need to decide what to tell others about your presence, and unless you have anything constructive to add, I would ask that you remain silent and allow the adults time to deliberate."

Willow blushed and Xander's breath hitched nervously. Poor Xander had always had trouble with authority figures and Buffy was instantly reminded of how Snyder used to always go out of his way to belittle him.

She felt her hackles rise.

Buffy leaned over to Xander and loudly whispered. "I think he's trying to be insulting, Xan. But the accent kind of ruins it. He talks so pretty that all that sarcasm comes out sounding positively charming."

Xander snickered and, much to Buffy's surprise, both Lupin and McGonagall had to cover laughs of their own.

Snape, however, did not laugh. In fact, he look as far removed from amused as a person can get.

Murderous, maybe, viciously so. But nope, not amused.

Buffy was a little taken aback by his darkening visage and briefly wondered if maybe she wasn't poking at a sleeping dragon when Willow tentatively brought a hand up as though she were answering a question in class. "I have a suggestion…or, I think I have a suggestion."

Snape's dangerous sneer lingered on Buffy for a moment longer before looking at Willow.

"Please, enlighten us."

"Well…I mean…" Willow turned her soulful eyes from Snape and focused her gaze on the Headmaster. "TA's."

Buffy groaned audibly at the suggestion while Dumbledore scratched at his beard. "I'm sorry, but could you extrapolate a little, my dear?"

Willow nodded. "At college certain courses had teacher's aids – TA's – who assist the professors."

Dumbledore shot McGonagall a sideways look before turning back to Willow. "There is really no precedence for such a thing…"

"And…"McGonagall cut in, "you're muggles. And I mean no offense, mind you, but I fail to see how you could help."

"We're not _all _muggles." Buffy said, but no one seemed to inclided to listen.

"Yeah, and…well from what I understand, this Dark Lord guy thinks of mu…muggles as sort of second class citizens." Willow continued, her confidence increasing with each word she spoke. "Like a wizard Hitler."

"Not just muggles." Lupin good-naturedly supplied. "But wizard's with muggle-blood as well."

A flash of indignation ignited behind Willow's eyes. "Right! And you guys don't want that…you believe in equality yet…"

She looked at each of the Order members, pointedly avoiding Snape. "Yet you won't expose your children to anyone who isn't magically inclined."

"That's hardly fair, Ms. Rosenberg." McGonagall chastised. "Muggles cannot teach magic."

Willow looked like she wanted to argue, but was at a loss. As much as Buffy cringed at the idea of being involved in school at any capacity, she also couldn't leave her friend hanging. So with a determined nod she turned towards the cluster of wizards. "Do you have a copy of your curriculum?"

With another wave, Dumbledore produced a thick document, setting it down in front Buffy who instantly started flipping through until she found a list of courses, each with a general and very vague description. "What's this?" She asked, holding the document up for the professors to see.

"I would think Defense Against the Dark Arts would be fairly self-explanatory." Severus quipped.

Buffy was having more and more trouble ignoring the insults. "You'd think, but why don't you humor me."

"That's my class."

All eyes turned to Lupin as he sat forward in his seat. "And it is a lot like it sounds; I teach children how to counter curses and defend themselves from potential harm."

"All with the use of magic, I suppose." Buffy mumbled to herself.

Her eyes moved over the other courses: Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination, Herbology, History of Magic, Muggle Studies, Potions and Transfiguration.

Definitely different from the courses taught at Sunnydale High.

She passed the list to her watcher who eagerly looked over it.

"Buffy could help with the, ah, defense class." He said, speaking mostly to himself. "And Xander…" He seemed to think for a minute. "Well, he couldn't go amiss in Muggle Studies."

He sat the list aside bringing his attention to Dumbledore. "As far as Willow goes, perhaps she could…" He stopped, looking to Willow for permission to continue. She gave him a slight nod.

Pulling his glasses from his face, he began to polish them. "In case it has escaped your attention, Willow _is _a witch. She happens to be a very powerful one…"

Placing his glasses back atop his nose, he was soon privy to the same thing that Buffy had already noted; not one of the wizard's was surprised by his revelation. "But everything she knows has been largely…self-taught. It was her…that is, _our_hope, that she could learn to hone some of her skills."

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose I could work with her…"

"No!"

The exclamation was veritably shouted by not just Snape, but the Headmaster as well. Minerva and Lupin looked shocked, but Buffy noted that Giles, though he did look disappointed, didn't really seem surprised.

And one look at Willow's crestfallen visage was enough to rile Buffy.

"Explain."

Dumbledore and Snape shared a knowing glance before the latter tossed a flippant hand in the air and rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore turned to Willow, looking nearly apologetic. "It is a shame that you were not brought up to appropriately wield your magic. Without proper tools and tutelage, magic has a tendency to take over. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"

Willow nodded, eyes drawn down as she watched her own fingers fidget with the hem of her blouse.

"You do not have to tell me what happened, and I probably don't need to tell you that the effects still linger." Willow nodded, finally pulling her gaze up. "But you need to know that any magic you do moving forward needs to be restricted to only that which does not harm. Healing, for example." He leaned back at that, his blue eyes sparkling once again. "And while transfiguration may not seem particularly harmful, it very much can be if used incorrectly."

"What do you propose then?" Minerva asked, turning in her seat to face the headmaster.

"While I'm not sure that I agree with giving everyone a new post, I cannot deny that having four new faces romping through the halls with no real purpose could seem suspicious. Therefore, I will consent to the concept of appointing TA's to DADA and Muggle Studies in the forms of Ms. Summers and Mr. Harris."

He then turned towards Giles. "Where do you see yourself, sir?"

Giles didn't even have to think about it, and Buffy almost laughed at his response. "I'm a researcher, so if you have a library that you can fit me into, I would be most appreciative."

Dumbledore nodded, before turning to Willow. She cast her eyes down. "I don't think there's anything in that black bag for me."

"Ms. Rosenberg, while I can't agree to have you work in any of the classrooms, there is one person whom I am certain could use your help and who can teach you a few things along the way. How do you feel about working in an infirmary?"

Buffy's thoughts went instantly dark and woozy. She hated hospitals and nearly cringed at the Headmaster's cheerful question, but Willow looked like she might just get up and start dancing, so Buffy quickly offered her an encouraging smile.

Luckily Willow had been able to contain her euphoria, even after being told that she would be getting a wand; something that both Buffy and Xander had teased her about as they headed back towards Buffy's room. The idea that witches and wizards actually used magic wands just seemed silly.

She had even managed to keep her beaming smile muted as Buffy paced her room in a vain attempt to find cell-phone reception.

But once Buffy had slouched on the foot of the bed and laid a hand on Willow's knee and muttered: "I am happy that you get to do this." The floodgates open, and Buffy was fairly certain that the witch's excitement could be heard permeating the walls and ringing out through even the most isolated corridors in the castle.

_Well,_Buffy thought, _at least one positive thing came of today's meeting. _

Now all she needed was to find out why the Order was so reluctant to offer information, and how, exactly she was going to go about doing her job.

She was starting to suspect that "_this is going to be trickier than I thought", _was the biggest understatement of the century.

* * *

Well, that went about as well as expected. I wonder how long the Order and the Scoobies are going to underestimate each other?

Thanks for all the reviews, favorites and follows! I appreciate any and all feedback and would love to hear what you think!

F.I.


	7. Chapter 7

**Great Big Ginormous shout out to Luhh Vieira - only the best beta in the house! Woot-woot!**

**And a big, mushy show of gratitude to those of you who have commented, favorited and followed...but especially those who comment. Just cuz.**

**Wait...what's that? You want _more _Snape/Buffy interaction?**

**Well, if you're going to twist my arm...**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"This is going to be trickier than we thought."

Those had been Severus' words two days before, just after Minerva, Lupin and the dog had filed out of the little meeting room.

Dumbledore had offered the slightest incline of his head in acknowledgement, but seemed thoroughly unperturbed. "They may prove to be very resourceful when it comes to their mission, or maybe they are simply over-confident. Either way, I trust you can manage."

Severus grunted at the typical, cryptic Dumbledore dribble before sweeping out of the room.

He _could _manage. Of course he could. But that didn't mean that he wasn't feeling rather annoyed by the whole of it.

He hadn't been keen on the idea when he was just to keep an eye on _one _Slayer. And now it was a Slayer, a Watcher, a witch and...a Xander?

Xander. Severus had no idea what to think about him, which in of itself was disconcerting.

The young man should have been the least of his worries, especially considering the stifled magical currents churning within the witch. If she let all of that darkness surface, the Dark Lord may be the least of their worries.

Except that something about the young man's presence didn't make any sense.

He had been offered unfortunately little information about any of the new arrivals. What he _did _know was that a Slayer has a Watcher to guide, instruct and train. And it seemed an easy leap in logic that a witch could prove helpful when dealing with the supernatural.

But a man who was just barely a man, and missing an eye to boot… Well, Severus wasn't sure what to make of that, which made him feel all the more suspicious.

He had thought that Xander might have been an apprentice to Giles. And this, he supposed, was still a possibility. But it didn't sit right. He didn't fit the part, and the rapport between the two men hadn't seemed copacetic to that type of relationship.

And if he wasn't an apprentice, there had to be another reason for him being there; something that wasn't readily observable.

Even more reason to be wary.

It had been Severus' plan to glean what he could through observation. A lot could be told by watching people when they didn't know they were being watched. Of course the castle wards protected against scrying within its walls, so flat-out spying wouldn't be a possibility – the headmaster liked to at least pretend he was a decent and virtuous sort - but Severus had long ago perfected the art of blending into the shadows.

He had little doubt that the visiting pain's-in-the-arse would reveal much…and shortly.

But just as so many other things of late, all that had gone to hell just as soon as the children had arrived that very evening.

Now in his private chambers, two days after the fact, he finally had a moment to think.

He pulled a tumbler from his cupboard and eyed the small collection of liquor: elven wine, fire whisky.

_No_ and _no_.

Scotch, well-aged and _very_ smoky.

_Ach, no_. Surely his stomach couldn't handle that!

Behind an old, pewter flask was a dusty bottle of cognac. A little sweet, but smooth.

_Ah, here we go._

He slid it off the shelf sending a frantic torrent of dust into the air before reaching for a crystal tumbler.

Moving to sit at his desk, he warmed the glass with a tap of his wand before adding a healthy pour of the dark, amber liquid.

And then he added a little more.

Technically, he was supposed to let it breath. Fine cognacs should be decanted for at least an hour before consumption. But this particular bottle, while nice by Hog's Head standards, was hardly 'fine'. Add that to the fact that Severus' leisure time was cut short more often than not, he decided that _breathing_ was something he didn't want to wait for.

When the students had arrived, bursting through the front entrance and swarming around much like the escaped dust motes from his liquor cabinet, the calm and quiet Hogwart's halls had become anything but.

As usual, the young miscreants brought with them the typical chaos that resulted from an intense blend of over excitement, fluctuating hormones and misplaced enthusiasm. A nervousness, exhilaration and a resonant sort of fervor leaked from each young body in one form or another and the Potions Master felt his energy being sucked up by adolescent hyperactivity.

If he had to listen to any more high-pitched, zealous banter he'd gouge out his own eardrums.

And then there was Potter.

Severus scowled as he drank from his glass, replacing the consumed liquid instantly.

The word _Potter _dripped from his thoughts like something thick and unpleasant. It smarted nearly as much as when someone dared speak the Dark Lord's name in his presence; tightening his chest and bringing forth unpleasant images.

And now that the brat and his brat friends knew about the Order, the little shites were going to be even more bothersome. Their little minds had been formulating conspiracies before they had any knowledge into the depth of the war effort, and now they'd been given insight into just enough to ensure Severus had a terrible year tying to thwart their inane theories.

Theories that were sure to involve him somehow.

Forget that they were just children who had no business being involved in a war. Forget the damnable prophecy. Now that those bloody kids where involved – however indirectly – with the Order, he would hardly be able to escape them.

Severus Snape, double-agent, master spy, and world renowned potions expert was doomed to be annoyed to death by three fifth-year juvenile delinquents.

To make matters worse, he had _almost _been rid of the boy wonder; a dim light at the end of a hellish tunnel. Potter had been so close to expulsion that Severus could almost taste freedom from the arrogant little twit.

So very close.

Expulsion _and _ imprisonment. But the latter was beside the point.

And if Potter hadn't strictly deserved it in this case, there had certainly been a lengthy list of offenses that _should_ have resulted in such drastic measures.

But of course Severus wasn't that lucky, and the Ministry could not expel him for use of underage magic when there had been no recourse. No one would expect the boy to sit idle while dementors swooped down upon him regardless of where he was and who was present.

Not even when they so clearly wanted to.

Severus finished off his cognac and ran his hand over his face. He still wasn't convinced that Dumbledore should have stepped in so drastically to help the boy with the whole fiasco. The truth was relatively obvious and public outcry alone may have rendered the same result. But, as it were, Dumbledore had shown all of the ministry his position where the boy was concerned.

Dumbledore smoothed this a bit by openly insisting that he would do the same for any student, but the old man would have to be supremely careful moving forward. Openly helping the Chosen One, admitting his position on the Dark Lord's return…it would mean that the Ministry – not to mention the Death Eaters – would be watching his moves _very _closely.

All this meant that Dumbledore would have to distance himself from Potter, which for someone like Severus would have hardly been a notable problem. But he wasn't a bleeding heart Gryffindor.

So now the Chosen Nitwit was back, along with the Weasel and the Know-it-All, chock full of new conspiracy theories and probably already angling for some foolish act of heroism that, inevitably, Severus would have to rescue them from. He knew this not only because it was a position that seemed to fall on him often enough anyway, but because the Headmaster would be remiss to stick his nose out too far at this point.

And then there was Buffy and her gaggle of hero aspirants. He had learned nothing from their brief encounters other than she was fascinated by the ceiling in the Great Hall, was unnaturally good at ignoring stares and whispers, and could put away more food than someone more than twice her size.

"Slayer metabolism." She had explained through a mouth full of roast beef when she'd found him glaring in her direction.

He would have chocked the weekend up to a complete loss…except for one unexpected turn that left him feeling rather smug.

With a quick tilt of his head, Severus downed his second…or was it third?…glass of liquor. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a slip of parchment. With only a moments thought, he wet his quill.

_Mr. Cohen,_

_I am looking for anything you can find on a Ms. Buffy Summers, DOB 19__th__, January 1981, including known acquaintances (I am particularly interested in a one, Xander Harris, likely born the same year)._

_I will assume your regular fee._

_As always, your discretion is of the utmost importance._

_S.S._

Severus looked back over his note before folding and sealing it. There was little chance that it would be intercepted, but he added a heavy layer of charms, just in case, before stuffing it in his breast pocket.

If anyone besides the intended recipient were to open it, they would spend the better part of the following few days in a confused stupor while sporting a nasty case of hives and still be none the wiser for it.

Bailey Cohen was a muggle detective he'd used in the past, although almost exclusively for tracking down fleeing Death Eaters who, ironically, had been forced out of the world of magic after the fall of the Dark Lord.

Severus _could_ do it himself, but even if time were not his most valuable commodity at present, he had little desire to try and sort through electronic records. Severus was good at a great many things, but he knew fuck all about muggle archiving systems and was perfectly content to keep it that way.

And Cohen had proved worthy of his exuberant fees in the past.

Severus had thought that Dumbledore would disagree with such methods of sleuthing, but, for once, he was pleasantly surprised.

After dropping his request, Dumbledore had spent a long moment thoughtfully tugging at his beard. _A very long moment._

In fact, Severus had just rolled his eyes and was about to storm out of the Headmaster's office when the old man finally spoke.

"Normally I could not condone the use of such false devices. However, seeing as how Ms. Summer's is now a professor – in a manner of speaking – I feel that we are duty bound to know everything we can."

Dumbledore nodded, apparently happy with his logic even while Severus tried to mask his surprise. "Yes, it would not do to allow those of whom we know so little to educate our youth. We have an obligation to know if they are all…safe."

It had been a ridiculous sentiment coming from the Headmaster who had knowingly employed a werewolf.

Not to mention a suspected Death Eater _and_ double-agent.

But that would have been counter-productive, so instead of pointing out the obvious flaws in Dumbledore's logic, Severus' simply nodded and commended him on his fine wisdom.

He even managed a smirk on his way back down to the dungeons. Not only had Dumbledore agreed, but because they were now employees of Hogwarts, Cohen's fee would come out of that year's faculty recruitment/retention.

_Thank Merlin_ they hadn't had to waste such funds on finding yet another DADA professor.

Pushing out of his chair, Severus felt a wave of blissful numbness whisper through his veins. He snagged his robes off the hook and slid into them, taking his time to fasten the buttons.

He caught his reflection in a small mirror near his door and noted an almost imperceptible blush highlighting his cheekbones. No one else would likely notice, but Severus had been accosted by his own supreme paleness for so long whenever he looked at his reflection, that even the slightest variation stood out to him.

_Nothing to be done about it now_, he thought, gliding out of his door and into the corridors beyond.

Perhaps he should have let the cognac breath…if just a little. He might not have been compelled to down it quit so fast. He would do well to remember that school was back in session; losing his edge to a nip wouldn't be conducive to frightening the students who dared share the halls with him.

Luckily there were very few wondering about at the moment.

That wasn't _really _odd, he supposed, even considering the early hour. No doubt they were hiding in their common rooms and reveling in each other's company after the summer holidays. Catching up or whatever friends and acquaintances did.

And though it was still light out, the weather wasn't exactly favourable for outside excursions. The rain had been carried in on a cool breeze, making the final days of August unseasonably chilly and altogether unpleasant.

So, at six o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, the halls, and undoubtedly the grounds, of Hogwarts were nearly deserted.

Nearly.

Realizing this he picked up his pace. Rather than do his usual search of the corridors to find ill-behaving students to deduct house points from, he decided to head straight for the owlery.

He'd almost made it to the final stretch when turning a corner he came face to face with none other than Slayer herself.

Well, not exactly face to face as she was leaning with her hand braced against the wall, peeking through an open door that led into Flitwick's classroom; a single leg raised daintily in the air and exposing the most bizarre and completely impractical shoe the Potion's Master had ever seen.

"Do you often pilfer footwear from clowns, Ms. Summers?"

He'd expected her to jump, or, in the very least, look offended. But she obliged him with neither.

"Some people might say so." Standing straight, she closed the door to the charm's classroom before facing him and blinking innocently.

She moved forward, purposefully clacking the insane heels on the stone floor. The sound echoed his Severus' ears, grating on his nerves worse than even the students had managed. He was convinced that her steps were systematic, each footfall placed to optimize irritation, before she finally came to a stop and leaned in conspiratorially. "But I prefer drag queens. Everyone knows their closets are chock full of the fab…including the best in this seasons slingbacks."

Severus arched a single brow, wondering briefly if the alcohol had addled his brain before remember that every time the young Slayer opened her mouth, she single-handedly destroyed the English language. "While your attempts at communication are…admirable…I really haven't the time to try and decipher every phrase you utter. Would it be too much to ask that you be accompanied by a translator?"

She sighed and defensively crossed her arms, but otherwise looked completely unperturbed by his blatant insult. "Sure…just as soon as I find someone who speaks snake _and_ who'd be willing to talk to you on my behalf."

Severus felt his jaw tighten, but the girl didn't so much as blink.

"And while we're at it, the shadows called to say monopolizing their ominous just isn't cool. They want their creepy back."

He felt his nostrils flair even as he attempted to school his features_. How dare she! _Severus had never been known for his patience or tolerance, and at the moment he was fuming.

It took every ounce of his tenuous self-control not to hex the mouthy chit where she stood and then he had to call on reserves he didn't even know he had not to storm away.

But after three deep breaths, he decided his best recourse was to change the topic. Obviously insulting her choice in fashion had backfired, and losing his restraint would only encourage her.

"Perhaps, Ms. Summers, if you're going to stick your nose into places it doesn't belong…" He nodded towards the now closed door to the Charm's classroom, "…you should at least make an attempt at discretion." His dark eyes bored into hers. "And I doubt you'll find anything evil, sinister or otherwise worthy of a Slayer's attention in Professor Flitwick's classroom."

_At least not until he attempted to teach the second years incendio._

He was happy to see that his accusation seemed to do the trick, and she looked mildly surprise before shifting her weight from one outlandishly clad foot to another.

"My nose wasn't…_sticking. _And I'm not looking for anything sinister. Trust me when I say I don't usually have to go _looking _for evil." She eyed Severus up and down; he needn't wonder about her implication.

"Besides, Professor Dumbledore suggested that I 'familiarize myself with the castle' – his word's not mine."

She turned at the waist, looking over her shoulder and when she turned back, her eyebrows were knotted together and her lips were twisted. When she spoke again, all former disdain was gone, replaced by mild confusion. "Although, I think…I mean, I know it sounds crazy…but if I didn't know better…Do the stairs, um, move?"

Severus didn't deign to answer, but instead chose to glower. Anyone else would have squirmed under his intense scrutiny, in a few cases they may have reacted in anger.

But in the Slayer there was a total lack of fear or anger.

Obviously the booze had him off his game.

"You would do well _not _to go unaccompanied into certain parts of the castle regardless of what the Headmaster has said."

"Oh?" Her brows rose and something akin to interest sparked in her eyes making the green of the iris stand out in stark contrast to the pupil.

She uncrossed her arms and tilted her head, causing blonde locks to tumble over one shoulder. Her expression was both curious and challenging. "Like what?"

Not exactly the reaction he'd been looking for. So she was in no way frightened by his portentous, if nebulous, warning. If anything, she seemed highly interested.

_Great! _He thought darkly. _Just what I need, to babysit another thrill seeker._

He stepped forward, closing the gap between them and noticed yet again how small she was. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder and he found himself leaning forward so that he could properly glower at her.

Calling on his years of practice in intimidating people, he dropped his voice to a near whisper and spoke in a low, menacing tone. "There are plenty of perils if you do not know how to avoid them; things that would make you long for a coven of vampires or a nest of demons. Things that have no agenda but whose sole purpose is to inflict harm on those stupid enough to stumble upon them."

She took a step back…a small one to be sure, but a step nonetheless, and he didn't think it was his words that caused the minuscule reaction.

Severus smirked wickedly.

"And they're made all the worst because you cannot see them, you cannot sense them, and there is no telling when or where they will pop up." His smile grew wider as he stood once again to his full height, squaring his shoulders back to loom as far above her as he could.

"Gee…sounds like a great place for kids." Her voice dripped with sarcasm and Severus' smile instantly faded.

He had thought he had sensed the tiniest hint of uncertainty. Well hidden, barely perceptible, but there. A trifling, infinitesimal flame just waiting to be fanned.

But he realized with sudden clarity, that if the Slayer had any uncertainties, he would never know about it. Not any more than she would know about his.

Severus' shrugged. "The children who attend Hogwarts are magic, as are most of the threats. Magic can discern magic, and they are much safer than you or your two male companions. There are many reasons why we've never allowed muggles in Hogwarts."

He suddenly wanted to be done with the whole conversation. He wanted to post his letter and spend a quiet evening in his room. "Go where ever you like, Slayer. It is no concern of mine."

He thought about that and decided to amend his words slightly. "With the exception of the dungeons. Those are mine and if I see you snooping there I will not hesitate to…fully express my displeasure."

Happy with the disquieted look on her face, he stepped around her with every intention of continuing his trek to the owlery. And he nearly made it to the end of the corridor before her voice rang out behind him.

"I was looking for a gym."

Severus stopped, but didn't turn around. He knew the term, but it took him a moment to recall it. When he did he sneered even though his back was to her.

"Or anyplace where I can work out and burn a little energy."

He turned just enough to peer over his shoulder, channeling every bit of the highbrow, stiff-necked Malfoy snobbishness that he'd been exposed to over the years. "The school has no such facilities." He turned again and took a step when a thought occurred to him.

If Ms. Summers was bored and needed to "burn a little energy", he would be remiss in his duties as host not to offer at least a suggestion.

"If you have an excess of energy, Ms. Summers, you may try running. I've heard that it can be very therapeutic. And, in fact, to the west there is a lovely…wooded area…that will offer you some privacy and a large plot of secluded land_._Of course, feel free to chase the stairs around, the children are always in need of something to talk about and that could prove to be diverting."

He turned into the second corridor before she could ask anymore of him, a self-satisfied grin on his face, and just as he was about to ascend the stairs he heard a low growl sound from behind him.

He didn't bother turning.

"What do you want, dog?"

There was no answer, of course, but Sirius stalked out of the shadows, hackles raised, as he moved to block the stairs.

Oh how Severus wanted to give him a good kick!

"So now you've taken to spying on me? Or is it the girl you're watching?" Severus smirked. "Lovely little chit, isn't she?" He leaned in staying well beyond snapping range. "Though I'm not sure if she's into bestiality."

Another growl and Severus rolled his eyes. He didn't speak dog, nor did he use legilimacy, but Sirius was being horribly, _Gryffensorishly_, obvious.

"So I sent her to the Forbidden Forest? She was obvious in need of activity and there she is certain to find plenty. And if she's as good as she thinks she is there will be no problem."

The dog frowned, at least as much as a dog can, and Severus stepped around him throwing one last remark over his shoulder. "If you're so worried about her, you follow her. I've got a letter to post."

And with that he swept past Sirius and glided up the stairs, black cloak flapping around him.

* * *

**Ooo! Buffy's going to the forbidden forest!**

**I hope she manages alright...**


	8. Chapter 8

Big thanks to the BETA of Convergence, Luhh Vieira! You all should know that it is Luhh who keeps this story even remotely cannon and ensures that I stay true to the characters and their voice.

Also a thanks to everyone who has reviewed or added this story to your favs/follows.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

The wooded area to the west.

To the west?

_Where the hell is west?_

It wasn't that Buffy didn't appreciate the tip…'cause really, she did. If she didn't get an opportunity to run, jump, bounce or otherwise shake off some of the major excess juice she'd been storing up over the past couple of days, she might just spontaneously combust.

And it wasn't as if she didn't have enough trouble sleeping without actually being tired - what with being in an unfamiliar place and, well, Slayer dreams. She needed an opportunity to wear herself out and preferably before she was faced with the prospect of teaching a classroom full of children hand-on-hand combat.

She somehow doubted that Dumbledore's good nature would extend to throwing his students through the castle walls.

At this point she would have gladly run around the corridors "chasing stairs", as Snape had put it, but she really didn't want any more pint-sized, wand-wielding kids watching her with no small amount of misgiving. She'd had enough muted whispers and curious ogling to last at least a little while and leaving the premises sounded like a super idea as far as she was concerned.

Their school uniforms were robes, and _she_ was the strange one. Go figure.

But to the west?

Did Buffy look like the type of person who carried a compass?

She'd headed out almost immediately, making only one stop and that was to her room to change. She hadn't appreciated the remarks about her awesome ALDO peep-toe pumps, but that wasn't why they had to go. They just happened to be very impractical for running. They weren't really even suitable for walking.

But she wondered if maybe she should have made a second stop and asked for a map.

She'd never had the best sense of direction. In fact, just last week, she'd gotten lost trying to find the Bold Bean's coffee shop on the corner of Wess and Pine.

_On the corner, for crying out loud!_

In her defense, one of the lights in the overhead sign was out making it look like "old Bean's", hardly an appetizing place to snag a mochachino, but that was still going to be one she kept to herself. It was never a good idea to give Xander ammunition, and she hated it when Giles did that thing where he shook his head and muttered _"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…"_

But now snarky Snake Guy had sent her out running "to the west".

Did the sun set in the west in Britain too?

Buffy frowned.

Not that it would matter if it did. No sooner had she stepped out of the school when she was accosted by a total lack of sunshine, not to mention the spitting rain.

Sometimes she missed California. Okay, she _always_ missed California. Sure there had been an over-abundance of demonic activity, but the weather had been really nice.

Cleveland was bad enough. She'd only experienced one winter there and at the time she had been excited by the prospect of experiencing actual seasons. But once the novelty of frigid temps and unfortunately little snow wore off, she was didn't care if she never saw another day bellow 70°.

And at least in Cleveland, there would still be warmth and sun and…_not_ chilly wetness.

Buffy couldn't help thinking that it really was a shame that the weather was so…_blah_…because she imagined that all that acreage - undisturbed by parking lots, sidewalks or mini-malls - would look awfully pretty under the right conditions. But right now, it looked cold and gray.

Standing just in front of the school she craned her head, trying to determine which way was west.

Off to her right was what looked like a row of greenhouses. Just beyond that a large, knotted tree. A willow, maybe?

To the left she could make out what looked like a sports field of some type, almost like a football field, except that the goal posts were different and way too high in the air.

That might need investigating later; where there were sports, there were often cheerleaders. Maybe she could TA in spelling out rhymes with her hands instead of Defense?

Straight ahead was a wide path and looking to see where it lead she noted, off to the right a smidge of darkness that could have been the wooded area.

And that _could_ be to the west, she decided, just as her legs started moving.

She wasn't exactly sure why Snape had decided to offer her a place to blow off some steam. While Buffy never pretended to be the best judge of character – not where actual, live humans were concerned – she was pretty sure that he absolutely hated her. Guts and all.

He'd done little more than glare menacingly at her since she'd first met him and obviously he'd never learned the tried and true adage _'if you don't have anything nice to say…'_

Or maybe he just got it backwards.

She'd recommend he watch Bambi when next she saw him. Maybe Thumper's mom could set him straight.

As though on cue, a small, brown rabbit bopped lazily across the path in front of her, stopping to twitch its nose before continuing on its way and eliciting an utterly feminine "_Awwww…" _from Buffy.

"A bunny!" She smiled weakly, and then felt a small twinge in her chest. She would never be able to see a bunny without thinking of Anya.

She took a deep breath and pushed the thought down. She wasn't sure where those emotions went when she did that and wondered briefly if her method of coping was healthy, before shaking it off and continuing on her way.

It wasn't raining hard, but heavy rain might have been better. Instead there was a thin, steady drizzle. Almost like, instead of actually raining, the moisture was a part of the air. Buffy wasn't sure why this was worse, but somehow it made the cold and gray seem _colder_ and _grayer_.

"Where are you sun?" Buffy looked to the sky, a small pout on her lips. Even though it couldn't have been much later than four o'clock, it looked like dusk. The sun wasn't visible at all and dark, oppressive, clouds hung dreary and black making the scenery look almost like one of those old black and white movies – the ones that were more sepia than black and white to begin with.

"Where are you color?"

The ground, too, wasn't exactly "rained on", but soft, and squishy without being muddy; leaking through her sneakers, but not going so far to stain the canvas. Her toes would be pruney when she peeled off her socks later, but that was an acceptable price to pay for a little privacy.

Making her way across the not-quite-soggy grounds, hopefully headed west, she came to a stop. Looking off the road and to the right she saw that just over a stretch of grass was a cabin. But behind that Buffy could very clearly make out woods. She wasn't sure what the cabin was for, if it was used for housing or something else, but she left the path and carefully moved well around it so as not to disturb any potential residence.

Almost as soon as she'd stepped off the road the wind picked up, pushing dark clouds across the sky and instantly lowering the visibility.

"Let's hope that's not an omen." She mumbled, though her voice lacked any real gloom even as she felt a slight tingle across her skin, making her pause in her movements.

For just a moment, after the tingling abated, Buffy was accosted by a feeling of supreme unease. It settled over her, nearly causing her to turn around and head back to the castle. But even as she stood there, taking in the wall of trees, the feeling ebbed. Not completely, but just enough.

Under any normal circumstances she wouldn't mess with a feeling like that. Buffy had grown to understand that her instincts were not usually wrong.

But – and that _'but'_ would be followed by a decisive _'unfortunately'_ - being surrounded by magic made her feel wiggy almost all the time. She was constantly being assaulted by wave after wave of Slayer apprehension shouting "Danger!" And while she was able to logically tell herself that it was the magic – the people, the building and everything within it – it had done little to calm her nerves.

Another reason she was happy to leave the building.

But even though the feeling of her skin crawling had faded as she moved away from the castle, it was being replaced by something else, something that was growing more and more intense the closer she got the edge of the forest. Like a thousand hidden eyes were trained on her.

_Evil eyes._

She sucked in a breath and forced herself forward.

It was probably nothing. The magic was messing with her and, she wasn't exactly in her element. Forget the whole different country thing. It was more than that. She imagined that she'd feel a little better if she weren't in the middle of nowhere.

Not that Hogwarts was _nowhere_, exactly. It was just that her idea of rural was the tiny copse of trees behind the swing set at the city park. This just happened to be _more_ rural than that. Lots more.

Of course it wasn't like she'd never been in the woods before. There was that time with the werewolf…and the time with the harvest, though that was mostly in the sewer.

…and that other time with a different werewolf.

But that had been Sunnydale woods. These were Scottish woods. Much bigger and darker, but totally lacking a Hellmouth.

Now that she stood just at the edge, where the grass tapered off and the trees began, she could see a path. And if it wasn't a very large path, it was still wide enough for what she was doing.

With a cleansing breath Buffy brought her right foot up behind her and grabbed it, stretching her thigh muscle for a solid ten count before shaking it out and grabbing the left.

She pressed her arms in the air, making slow movements from one side to the other, then leaned forward, pressing her hands into the ground, feeling the pull in her legs and back.

It wasn't much of a warm-up - certainly Giles wouldn't have been impressed - but it was about all she could manage. She'd waited too long to work out, and every muscle in her body was primed for excursion.

She took another look around, eyes trying to see what was causing her senses to reel. But she saw nothing. She listened, but aside from the faint patter of rain, the rustling of leaves and the low hum of the air, she couldn't hear anything.

Was that odd? Should the woods make…noise?

She shook her head, nearly laughing at her unfounded misgivings before taking off at a moderate pace.

Buffy wanted to run. Like _really_ run. Her legs nearly jolted at the sudden action and threatened to push her forward at inhuman speed. But there were two things preventing her from going any faster. The first was the fact that there were trees - a whole lot of trees - and even as tough as she was, she didn't really relish the idea of turning a corner and planting her face right into a trunk.

Her other big concern was actually the more probably of the two, and that was getting lost. If she didn't take careful precautions to stay on the barely visible path and she went too far, there was an extremely good chance that she wouldn't be able to find her way out again.

She cringed with the sudden knowledge that the only person who knew where she might be was Snape and she could only hope that if she didn't show up for class on Monday, he'd say something.

Buffy could imagine that conversation: _"Oh yes, I believe she went running in the deep dark woods. You'll probably find her with the remains of Little Red Riding Hood."_

So she'd stick with a light pace and watch the ground. Not the best workout in any way, shape or form, but she'd take it.

Barely a minute and a half into her run the visibility dropped even more. The trees overhead, though they didn't seem that thick, managed to blot out what sunlight hadn't already been blocked by the cloud coverage.

She shivered, even as she slowed her pace. She had been hopeful that the further she got from the castle and its plethora of magical inhabitants, the less heavy her feeling of constant threat would be.

Yet it hadn't dissipated. If anything, it was spiking.

Buffy slowed to a stopped and turned. She couldn't see the castle, or even the grounds, there was just the woods and her small trail. But the tingling of her skin, the erect hairs on the back of her neck and the strong desire to defend herself was more distracting than ever.

To Buffy that could only mean two things: either the magic extended to the woods and was even stronger than it had been in the castle surrounded by all those witches and wizards, or... there really was a threat lurking somewhere in the foliage.

"Damn." She swore softly trying to decide if she should keep running or go back. If she continued she risked an encounter with whatever it was giving her the major heebie jeebies. But if she turned back she'd be faced with helping Giles in the library, not being able to sleep again, and being super agitated for her first ever class.

She started running again almost immediately, having made her decision at _'help Giles.'_

There may be innumerable baddies hiding in the woods just waiting for an opportunity to take her out, but somehow that was a lot better than hanging in the library looking up information about an old, evil, wizard and secret organizations.

Beside, how much information would really be in a school library about any of it?

She smirked, wondering if Giles had brought his arcane Time Life book collection.

Buffy wouldn't be any help anyways. Giles and Willow were the research aficionados. Xander was great at…moral support. She'd just sit around getting fidgety, distracting everyone until they finally sent her away.

So she'd run, maybe punch a tree, but definitely run. There was nothing out there. Snape, big fat jerk that he was, wouldn't send her into the woods if it were dangerous.

There was nothing to worry about, nothing to harm or maim or…

Something to her right caught her attention making her stop in her movements. Nothing obvious, but a small noise like…a shuffle.

Buffy tilted her head to listen. Her breathing was quiet and even, not yet effected by her jog. Without much effort, she heard it again.

Shuffling in the woods probably wasn't odd. Woodland things shuffled; she was pretty sure about that.

It was a curious sound though, kind of hurried, like a group of old people in slippers trying to get from one end of a room to another.

...and there it was again, only louder, closer and straight ahead.

Yeah, just like slippery feet, or mice in the walls…or spiders in the drain pipes.

Buffy nodded at her own descriptive inner monologue. The spider analogy seemed a pretty good fit, especially as the shuffling continued, more frequent. And it was moving; from her right to straight ahead to...

…all around.

She moved in a slow circle eyes sliding from one dark recess to another.

_Just like a spider…_

_Or spiders._

Only, in order for them to make such a big sound, they'd have to be huge.

And just as quickly as it had begun, the shuffling stopped. Everything was quiet, everything was still.

Buffy could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she silently breathed; she could feel the pulse in her neck quicken as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Without moving, without making a sound, she watched, pupils dilated.

When she still saw nothing, Buffy closed her eyes and reached out with her senses; allowing her instincts to take over and stretch out across the woods. Invisible arms reached out like archaic tentacles; in front of her, behind her, above her…

Buffy's eyes shot open and her head snapped back as she scanned the tree limbs. Sharp, green eyes slid across the boughs, through leaves, and it was there, almost directly above her, that she saw it.

A black shadow among black shadows.

She tutted. "Hey, I think you've mistaken me for Xander, he's the one with giant bug issues."

The thing hissed and clicked as it descended at lightning fast speed. Buffy moved to the side to avoid having it land directly on top of her, reaching into her boot and pulling out the only weapon she'd thought to bring with her…the one thing she never went anywhere without.

Mr. Pointy.

The spider hit the ground with surprising ease and moved towards her so quickly that she'd barely had time to react.

And she had been right, the thing was beyond massive.

She wasn't great at judging size, but it was at least three of her, which put it up over 15 feet in height. Big, black, and hairy with a whole face full of beady eyes.

It didn't take long for Buffy to surmise that Mr. Pointy wasn't going to be a whole lot of help.

It lunged, but at this point Buffy was prepared for its speed and easily moved out of the way, whirling to the left and bringing a leg around in a good, old fashioned spinning roundhouse that connected with one ginormous spindly leg. A leg that was much more solid than Buffy would have thought.

Solid as it was, it still buckled, and made a loud snapping noise as the creature produced a high-pitch keen that sounded almost human.

But one out of eight legs broken didn't slow it down for long, and it jumped, eight black eyes flashing dangerously.

Buffy flipped backwards, just out of reach, but the thing seemed to have anticipated her movement and swung one of its still operational front legs, knocking her across the left shoulder and sending her roughly into a tree.

She landed with an _'oomph'_, feeling the rough bark scrape at the skin on her back, and the needle-like hairs on the spiders legs tear at her arm. _That_ was going to leave a mark.

Rolling on impact, she just barely escaped as the spider thrust out another leg, one which likely would have gone through her chest.

Okay, so the fugly spider doesn't _want_ to play nice.

Allowing her eyes a moment to roam, she saw a dense, sturdy root protruding from the ground and she wasted no time in going for it. Giving it a rough yank it roiled out of the hard-packed soil.

Once in hand, she brandished what she deemed to be a very impressive, if slightly rough, club. Not having time to test it first, Buffy lifted it over her head, cave-man style, and brought it down with every ounce of strength she could muster.

It was over-kill.

_Literally_.

The club came down with so much force that when it connected with the giant spider's head, it crunched – loud and sickeningly.

But it didn't stop there.

Slayer strength ensured that the club went clean through the scull. Although in hindsight, she decided that "clean" was the wrong term to use because the spider's head exploded, sending a sticky, greenish-brown goo forcefully out in all directions.

Buffy turned her head away in time to avoid getting a mouthful, but she felt it glob onto her skin and hair.

_"Eww!"_

She tossed the club aside, sloughing off spider brain and wondering how she was going to get back to her room and into a hot shower without anyone seeing her.

And to her room was exactly where she was going. Buffy was so thoroughly done with the woods. Why Snape had thought this would be a good place to run was…was…

Buffy's eyes narrowed as clear, crisp realization swam into her consciousness.

Okay, first room, then shower, but after that her plan was to hunt down the Snake and make it clear to him that she was _not_ the girl to mess with.

If he had wanted her to die, he'd failed.

But if he'd wanted to piss her off, he could consider it mission accomplished!

Angry thoughts of bodily harm floating in her head Buffy spun where she stood with every intention of heading straight back to the castle.

Unfortunately, she discovered very quickly that her path was blocked.

"Oh, fuck!"

Buffy wasn't one to swear. Not usually. But all of her witty quips seemed to have left her. And as far as she was concerned, if ever there was an _"Oh, fuck"_ moment, this was it.

So the spider whose brain's she was now wearing had friends.

A bunch of them.

Buffy tried to do a quick count but there were dozens. Some smaller than the first, others much bigger, and it became very obvious very quickly that they weren't going to give her the time to size them up.

So she did the only thing she could think of: she turned and ran. And it wasn't a moment too soon, for they heaved forward like a solid mass with every bit as much speed as the first.

Her legs pumped furiously as her eyes took in everything, trying to find either a good place to defend herself, or a quick escape.

From somewhere just ahead of her she heard a bark - loud and frantic - but she dismissed it, almost didn't even hear it. Buffy didn't really have the time to consider the what and why of a barking dog because, at that moment, the first of the spiders descended on her from above.

Buffy tucked her chin into her left shoulder and rolled over her right, moving quickly out of its snapping pincers before bounding lightly back onto her feet and running as though she never broke pace.

Another spider swooped in from the side. As it jumped, she crouched. When it was mere inches above her, she rose again: suddenly and with force. Pressing her arms up she pushed, sending it flying back and successfully knocking out one or two others.

Or at least that's what it sounded like to Buffy, but she wasn't about to turn around and check it out.

The barking grew louder. She still tried to ignore it, but she couldn't help but note that it was now straight ahead. Again, she wasn't too concerned; a dog, regardless of whether it was friendly or not, was the least of her problems.

Anther spider got too close and Buffy struck out with the side of her fist, connecting with a leg. She swore again as pain shot through her hand and wrist.

Damn exoskeletons!

But she must have done something right, because it stumbled… just in time for another to take its place.

This was getting to be too much. Buffy needed to think of something and quick.

Taking a moment to glance around, she noticed a thick cluster of trees veritably sewn together with vines; heavy, dark green vines tangled tightly together and stretching from roots all the way to the treetops and offering a nice little cocoon.

It wasn't ideal, but it would hopefully mean that she could protect her back and head and only worry about her front.

Of course she'd be cornering herself, but her options were woefully limited.

The tiny pause to gain her bearings allowed the spiders to move in and she wasted no more time weighing her regretful situation.

"Where's a really big boot when you need one?"

They came at her from two sides, one on the left and one on the right and for the briefest of moments, Buffy was happy that they were so big. If they'd been any smaller, more of them could surround her at one time. As it were, anymore would just get in each other's way.

And they seemed to know this, which was disconcerting to say the least. Spiders shouldn't have that kind of sense, and suddenly Buffy wondered if maybe they were a little brighter than the average arachnid.

She whipped Mr. Pointy around, jabbing at one while ducking a blow from the other. One screeched in that nearly human way, but Buffy quickly realized that it wasn't something she'd done, but rather it had taken the hit intended for her.

Slowly a plan was taking shape.

Angry, the one that was hit hissed, exposing its nasty, dripping fangs. The second one moved forward again, chomping at what Buffy could only assume was her head. As both spiders lurched towards her, she dropped to the ground and rolled, colliding with spider legs which caused one of her attackers to pitch into the second.

All those legs were suddenly a hindrance. When they struck each other, their legs intertwined, giving Buffy the chance she needed to make a dive towards the relative safe haven of the twisted vines.

The spiders moved almost in unison in her direction, caught up in the rip tide of her wake. She whipped around as she made it to her alcove, eyes scanning quickly for anything she could use.

The vines loomed around her, swathing her on three sides like a giant, gnarly hammock hanging sideways in the tress.

At this angle, only one at a time could get to her unless they chose to clamor on top of each other. They weren't doing this, not yet, but it didn't look like it'd be long before they did.

One was on her within nanoseconds, clanking its teeth and chattering. Buffy made a blind grab and her fingers wrapped around one of the long, thick vines giving it a solid tug. But it didn't budge.

So if she couldn't pull it down from the top…

Broadening her stance and grasping the vine with both hands Buffy made a whip-like motion, sending the bottom of the vine lashing out. There was no satisfying crack, not like with a _real_ whip, but it did thwonk the spider heavily across the eyes.

It hissed in a way that made Buffy think she'd only managed to tick it off, but it was still pushed back.

Unfortunately, it didn't have anywhere to go thanks to the crushing weight of the other eight-legged bugs behind it. It pressed back, the others pressed it forward again and Buffy felt like she was on the perimeter of a truly disturbing mosh pit.

The momentum worked in her favor, though. As the spider was pushed forward - front legs raised, mouth open and eyes blinking - she thrust out Mr. Pointy and, with almost no effort on her part, it impaled itself.

It took a sharp stick to the face, and the others almost instantly started scrambling over it.

"Enough already!" She stabbed out at another before it could so much as blink in her direction, pressing her stake through its cluster of eyes and making it scream before it, too, was overcome by yet another.

_How many of these things was she going to have to kill?_

The third made no hesitation as it zeroed in on her and lunged. She had little room to move but threw her shoulder back, fisted her already aching hand and landed a punch just below its mouth; an area that she thought might be a jaw.

She cringed as the blow landed, expecting another jolting connection with spider-armor, but it turned out to be less painful than she thought. Apparently the underside of a spiders head is soft.

_Really soft_, she though as her fist went through the not-so-tough skin. When she yanked her hand back it was covered in more of the green-brown goo.

Then there was another spider.

Buffy suddenly had the sinking feeling that she was going to bury herself alive in spider carcasses, and the damn things would probably still keep coming.

She heard barking again. More frantic and closer than before.

The barking was nearly at her heels as yet another spider moved towards her. She reached with the thought to try and grab at a leg, but before she could there was a low, menacing growl coming from right next to her.

Turning she saw a black and brown dog. It had, apparently, come out of nowhere, snapping at the spider and getting a good grip on a leg that had been about to swipe Buffy's legs out from under her.

The spider hissed and yanked its leg back as the dog pushed itself through the lowest part of the vines, disappearing.

It was a dog she'd seen before, in the meeting, and once or twice in the halls at Hogwarts and even in the midst of all the spidery chaos, she found herself wondering what it was doing out there.

But the spider recovered quickly, leaving Buffy little time for contemplation. She stabbed at it once…twice…tree times in quick succession, punching three holes in its heads and sending it reeling back into the others who were growing increasingly frustrated.

And how did Buffy know the mental state of a mob of spiders?

She knew because they were starting to do that thing she'd been happy they weren't doing: climbing over each other to get to her.

And boy were they ever! They climbed higher and higher, each making an effort to get to the front, to be the one to finally sink ugly round teeth into her, until they had surrounded her with a veritable wall that reached high into the air.

A hairy spider wall. Even though Buffy wasn't the one with giant bug issues, she couldn't suppress a shiver.

A noise squeezed through her throat, unintelligible but easily definable. It was the same noise - high-pitched and squeaky - that she made anytime a situation turned and she suddenly found herself in real danger.

Or, as Giles would say, she whined.

The spider wall mounted higher and higher. A solid, black, crawling wall of clicking, hissing bug monsters, and Buffy knew that it was moments before it came toppling down on top of her.

From behind, something grabbed her, or, more accurately, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and started tugging. Her first instinct was to fight back, but she squashed the impulse almost immediately when she heard a half growl, half whimper; very much _not _spider noises.

She dropped down on all fours, hoping that the dog would release her and not just for the sake of snapping at her face.

Once on the ground she whipped around coming face to face with big, brown eyes. "All right." She hissed. "I got it! Now get me out of here."

The dog wiggled backwards under the vines and Buffy followed, having to drop full to her stomach to find an area that was thin and lax enough for her to squirm through.

But the vines were heavy, fully locked together from years of undisturbed growth. If she had been any larger, she wouldn't have made it, as it were the vines felt like they were squeezing her. They pressed her into the ground, pulled at her hair and scratched her already damaged shoulder.

But the worst part was that she couldn't see what was happening behind her, though she could hear plenty.

The spidery sounds of scuffling and clicking was growing to nearly deafening proportions as the nasty creatures made a scrambled attempt to get her. What would the spider-wall look like now?

Then she heard the moment when they toppled.

And then she could feel them.

Buffy had never had that nightmare that she so often heard described: the one with a thousand spiders crawling up over and around – getting under clothes and in hair. But she thought that maybe that would be better. Those spiders would be, after all, little spiders. And little spiders, she'd heard all her life, were more afraid of people then the other way around.

These spiders were not afraid of her, and, in fact, it took surprisingly little time for one of them to make a grab at her vulnerable and fully exposed legs even considering the chaotic body pile.

But a mad grab it was, and luckily, it only snagged her pant leg.

Using all of her strength she pulled herself through, yanking her legs through the vines. She heard and felt the material tear on her favorite pair of yoga pants, but she couldn't feel too upset about it because she'd made it through. She could still hear them, but she was on the other side of the vines safe and sound.

Buffy sighed and rolled over on her back to breathe for a moment, eyes closed.

_Well, she'd wanted a work out._

When she opened her eyes it was to see a big hairy dog head staring down at her.

"Thanks Poochey." She smiled, though she was pretty sure it was more of a grimace.

The dog responded with a short bark as it moved away. She sat up eyes still trained on her unexpected savior. The dog was looking right back at her, but nodding its head off in another direction and Buffy got the clear impression that it was trying to get her up and moving.

"Its okay, Lassie." She said, rising to her feet. "Timmy's safe from the well."

But the vines behind her rippled and surged, like something heavy was pressing against them.

_Exactly like that, _she though grimly.

Buffy didn't know if the spiders could get through, but she wasn't keen on waiting around to fine out.

"All right." She said, already moving forward. "I just hope you know where you're going." And with that the dog took off, with Buffy close behind.

She maneuvered behind him, trying to get some idea of where she might be, but had no such luck. The small path she'd taken into the woods was nowhere to be seen, and wherever she was now, the trees were much denser.

And in case that wasn't bad enough, a ghostly white mist was rolling in. Or, and more likely, they were moving into the mist. It reminded her of the thick puffs of steam that came out of the sewer grates back home.

The smell was just as bad too, like rotting earth.

A bird screeched, and Buffy felt cold all over again.

They weren't moving as fast now, but Buffy was okay with that considering there was no noise from behind to indicate that any spiders were in hot pursuit.

They finally came to a small clearing and the dog stopped for a moment, sniffing the air. At this point Buffy was happy to comply with the interlude. She needed a minute to think, to figure out what she was going to do, where she was going to go.

Buffy looked in one direction and saw that the path seemed to clear. It was brighter and there were obvious signs of traffic. A slight breeze stole across the clearing, cool and cleansing, and she noticed something shimmering on one of the branches.

Moving forward to investigate she saw a half dozen or so hairs; thin, wispy and so white that they were almost blue. They reminded her of prisms, the way they seemed to collect light.

She reached out and touched them, feeling the silky texture and Buffy was extremely curious as to what it came from.

She looked up again, eyeing the hint of light, then let her eyes travel down to roam over the path. It was narrow, but that wasn't what caught Buffy's attention. While she was no Walker Texas Ranger, she couldn't help but note that the trail was littered with…

"Hoof prints?"

Straining a little more, she could vaguely make out the sound of running water.

She turned and looked in the opposite direction and saw more darkness, more ominous mist and no notable path.

With a little shrug she turned back ready to walk into the light when a growl stopped her.

"Oh, come on!" Tossing her arms out at her side, Buffy turned towards the dog and noticed he had moved in the less welcoming direction and was obviously waiting for her to follow.

The dog shook its head slowly back and forth and Buffy's brows shot up. She shouldn't be too surprised, seeing as the dog had already helped her _and_ lead her away from the army of deadly spiders, but the gesture was so...human.

She pointed towards her preferred direction. "But…path…and shiny hair."

The dog barked, a soft but oddly definitive sound, and Buffy's shoulders slumped. "Alright, but I'm taking way too much for granted here."

She had no idea how long they walked, where they were going or if the dog really even knew. At this point she wondered if she'd be better off holding still and hoping that someone would come looking for her. That seemed logical and she almost stopped regardless of what the dog wanted. But just before she'd made up her mind to do so, the mist started to clear and the trees to thin.

Buffy tried to think of a time where she'd been more happy to feel ice cold sleet on her arms, but as the canopy opened back up and let the rain come through, she heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

And when they finally broke through the woods, she sighed again and patted the dog affectionately on the head. There, not a hundred yards from where she stood was a wide, dirt road.

Of course that meant that they had come out on a completely different side of the woods than she'd entered, but she couldn't even feign anything other than relief. Especially once she noted that not far down that road was a gate which happened to be giant and rot-iron.

An entrance gate.

It was pretty, in a spooky and oppressive sort of way and reminded her of the ones that often surrounded grave yards – old, weathered, ornate. Only this one was way bigger than any she'd seen.

Hogwart's sized! Spooky and oppressive sure, but she was very happy to see it.

Once she made her way up to it, wondering idly if she'd be able to open it or if she'd have to scale it, she faltered. When she looked up, expecting to see Hogwarts - grand and imposing standing against the dark horizon - all she saw was the skeletal remains of what may have once been a castle.

"This isn't right."

The dog sat down next to her, damp hair glistening, and looked up at her, soulful brown eyes curious.

"Is this…"

They had come out of the woods in a very different place, this she knew as soon as she'd seen the road. Buffy nodded. This had to be a different place, that's all there was to it. She didn't know much about Scotland, but she knew it was old. And old meant occasional ruins.

But as she leaned forward, gripping the iron bars and looking out over the landscape, there was something familiar about it.

And if she squinted her eyes and looked a little off to the side, she could almost see…something.

"Oh!"

Buffy felt her stomach tighten as she loosened her grip and let her hands fall back to her side.

Something had happened. Something horrible. She could feel it. While ruins of any kind should have been, well, _neat_, this felt anything but.

Something tugged at her, warning her to move away, but if felt different than her Slayer senses. It was something outside of her own instincts.

Plus, if something had happened and the castle had been leveled during the time she'd been in the woods, it wouldn't have been so…settled. No, these ruins had been there for a long time. Ages even.

It _was_ Hogwarts, though. She was certain. But why did she have such a strong desire to run from it?

She closed her eyes, once again calling on her core, Slayer self. She pushed passed whatever wanted her out of there and knew fairly quickly that the emotion wasn't hers. Not exactly.

It was manufactured.

And what could manufacture emotions?

"Magic."

The dog let out a little bark, then took off out of the blue, scurrying away so quickly, that Buffy didn't even try to follow. She was preoccupied anyway. When she looked up again, her eyes strained at the shell-that-had-been-Hogwarts, and it rippled.

Narrowing her eyes, she pressed her hands through the bars that made up the gate. Reaching as far as she could, stretching until even her shoulder squeezed through to the other side, she felt something e. Behind the screaming sensation to turn and run, she felt…a barrier.

"Huh."

Moving her fingers along this strange, new surface she watched as the air seemed to move in front of her - heat off the blacktop in summer - and then comprehension hit her.

"Frickin' paranoid wizards!" She mumbled, pulling her arm back and plopping to the ground.

She could probably get over the gate and push through whatever spell they'd set to keep people out. The need to turn away was definitely strong, but knowing that it wasn't real helped. But the invisible force was real enough that even pressing against it she knew that moving through it would be like trudging through the balls at Chuck E Cheese…if those balls were filled with lead.

And she had no idea how deep the spell went. What happened if she made through the first layer only to get stuck? The idea didn't sound appealing.

She whistled, hoping that the dog would come back. She doubted it could do anything; it was just a dog, regardless of how helpful it had been. But, as they say, misery loves company, and Buffy was starting to feel pretty miserable.

"Damn you, Snape."

Images of her confrontation with him began to pick at her. He would woe the day he messed with the Slayer.

_Oh yes, there would be much woeing!_

Buffy wasn't big on revenge, she was more of the "prove 'em wrong" philosophy then the "get even" type. But sitting there she couldn't suppress the image of walking up to him and kicking him in the balls with her beloved peep-toes.

She let out a little puff of air. _No_. While that might drop him, it was hardly adequate.

"Jack ass probably doesn't have much use for balls anyways."

She picked up a handful of pebbles and started tossing them one by one at the invisible barrier, watching them go harmlessly through. For some reason, this made her even angrier.

She could break his nose, but from the beak he was sporting, that had probably happened so many times already that it wouldn't faze him much.

"I can't imagine why anyone would want to break _his_ nose." She mumbled, not at all happy with the weakness in her sarcasm.

_Great! Not only had Snape sent her out to be killed by giant, man-eating spiders, but he broke her sarcasm too._

Her jaw clenched as she thought about snapping each one of his fingers.

That made her smile. It was lopsided and feeble, but a smile all the same.

Buffy had noticed his hands and, from what she could see they were his best physical attribute; long and slender yet notably masculine. He worked with his hands, of that she was certain, and she thought that the loss of his fingers would probably go far in gaining a little well-earned retribution.

The dog barked and pulled Buffy from her macabre revere. Her head shot up just in time to see it bounding in her direction…from the opposite side of the gate. She again felt relief, a sensation that swelled when she noticed that it wasn't alone.

Jumping to her feet, she couldn't help but call out. "Hagrid!" All sour thoughts were momentarily pushed aside; she felt her chest deflate as air rushed out of her in instant reprieve.

"Aye, Buffy? What'r yeh doin' out 'ere?"

Buffy knew she'd liked Hagrid after meeting him at the airport. Now, watching his lumbering frame coming towards her, ambling forward like a gentle grizzly bear and concern shining in his eyes, she thought she just might love him.

"I came as soon as Padfoot 'ere came 'n got me, but…oi, what happened to yeh?"

He stopped just on the other side of the gate and seemed to be taking her in, eyes swooping up and down before landing on her shoulder.

She followed his gaze and winced.

Her leg looked rough, but only because her pant leg was mangled. Aside from that, she was just plain dirty. But her shoulder was another story. She'd known when the spider had whacked her with one of its legs that it would leave a bruise, but she wasn't sure if the deep scarlets and purples that now spread across her skin could be classified as something so mundane.

It would heal, just as the pain in her hand was already fading, but for the time being it was a spectacular battle scar.

"Ah, this is…nothing." She said looking from her shoulder to Hagrid. "You should see the other guy."

Hagrid's eyes lit up, though he didn't exactly laugh. He didn't ask any questions either, which Buffy really appreciated. She wasn't ready to relive what had happened just yet especially knowing that she'd have to give a full report to Giles.

Pulling a giant loop of keys from under his coat he began unlocking the gate. "Well, let me see you back to the castle." He nodded towards the ruins. "Maybe have Madame Pomphrey take a look at tha' arm."

"The castle?" Buffy looked out over where Hogwarts had been. "Yea, that's, um, kind of a problem. Well, not so much the not-there-Hogwarts as the shimmery air there where you're standing."

Padfoot let out a little bark and Hagrid smiled.

"Yeh can't see it, can yeh?"

Buffy shook her head and Hagrid nodded.

"It's 'cause yer not a wizard. But it's there…it's just tha' we'll need help getting' yeh through the wards. It's not a problem. I'll, ah, jus' go get one a the professors."

He started towards where the castle was supposed to be and Buffy felt a small sliver of anxiety pool in her stomach. "Hagrid, wait."

He turned, looking back expectantly as she chewed on her bottom lip. "Um, so you think that the professor you get…well, could it not be Snape?"

Hagrid looked for a moment like he might question her, but instead only nodded, before turning again. Just as he passed through what Buffy had started thinking of as the ripple, he turned.

"Yeh know, Buffy, funny thin' about Professor Snape is tha' he's a 'look an' see' kind a bloke."

Buffy looked questioningly back at him, not at all sure what a "look and see" bloke was.

"He'll often do somethin' jus' to look an' see what happens. Thought yeh'd like ta know."

Then he turned and walked away.

Buffy looked after him for a minute before kneeling down beside Padfoot and scratching him behind the ears. "Big guy's pretty cool."

The dog answered with a little, happy wimper.

"And so are you, by the way."

Padfoot barked happily as Buffy settled onto the ground and snuggled into his soft fur just as a wicked smile spread across as a simple plan began to form.

So, Snape was a "look and see" bloke? Well, if that was the case, then she knew exactly what to do. Revenge might be best cold, but hopefully what she had planned would leave him steaming.

* * *

Ut oh! I wonder what Buffy has planned?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The potion's professor had nearly run from the Great Hall that morning in a pointed effort to avoid an encounter that he had no time and even less inclination for. The Summers girl hadn't been present at breakfast but her Watcher was veritably stewing; throwing Severus reproachful glares and looking as though he wanted to say something.

The man never uttered a word to him, but Severus knew that Giles wasn't happy, and he had a pretty good idea as to why.

So the Slayer had taken his advice and gone for a romp in the Forbidden Forest? He smirked and wondered how long it would take the girl to confront him.

The previous evening a part of him had deliberated as to whether or not his actions had really been such a good idea. But it was a very _small_part. And he might have recanted - hunted her down and offered a better solution – except for the dog. There was little chance that he would do so after being growled at by the mangy cur.

Besides, it was obvious by now that she was fine, certainly he hadn't heard otherwise, therefore whether or not he should feel any regret was moot.

In all actuality, the whole thing left him feeling slightly smug, but also with little uncertainty that he would hear more about it and _that_he could do without. So rather than risk having to listen to a harping Watcher or Headmaster, he simply ate his meal and left with every intention of going straight to his classroom.

In any case, the Slayer would seek him out and…express her displeasure. Of this Severus had no doubt.

Severus' smirk turned to a full-blown leer at that thought. He could only speculate as to her physical prowess, but sarcasm would only get her so far. He had been endowed with a supremely sharp tongue; she would not win against him in a verbal sparring match.

These were the thoughts floating through his head as he made his way to the dungeons for his first class. Fifth year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw was not the worst way to start off the school year, though it wouldn't do to let them know as much, so he schooled his expression back into the standard hard glare.

And he'd almost made it to the classroom too. He was turning off from the main corridor and heading towards the dungeons, less than a hundred meters away, when he heard the Headmaster behind him.

"Severus, might I have a moment of your time?"

With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes he turned.

Albus was dressed in purple robes, nothing too bawdy, but his hat was obscenely decorated in a plethora of animated, shooting stars. It was probably the most distracting thing Severus had ever seen him in. And for the Headmaster, that was saying something.

Severus blinked, pulling his attention from the zipping sparks and tiny explosions. "This had better be quick, I do have a class to teach."

"Of course, Severus. I wouldn't dream of keeping you. I would wait, but it is rather important that I speak with you in regards to Ms. Summers."

_Here it comes._

Severus folded his arms over his chest. "Go on."

Albus smiled before clasping his hands behind his back. "I have a favour to ask you."

Severus had a strong desire to shout "No!" and walk away. But it wasn't really a request. No matter the wording of the query, no matter that he was being "asked a favour", Severus had known the Headmaster long enough to comprehend the subtle nuances in his tone, the way the light shined in his eyes and the set of his mouth, and even the various deflection which differentiated an actual request from orders.

He could decline, but eventually Albus would get what he wanted. It was simply a matter of how much energy Severus wasted attempting not to agree before finally doing it anyway.

So, instead of saying 'no', Severus nodded. "What?"

There was nothing welcoming in his tone – he's made certain of that – but Albus' eyes twinkled merrily away as he peered over his half-moon glasses.

It was bloody annoying.

"While we have been assured that Ms. Summers has some experience teaching, she and Mr. Giles seem reluctant to offer up details. And due to the volatility of the course she is aiding in, I feel strongly that we should have another professor present. At least initially."

_The volatility of the course?_The Headmaster was up to something and Severus found himself attempting to read between his simply and _nearly_logical statement.

"And why not do it yourself?"

"Oh, I would! It would be interesting to see, I'm sure."

_But…_

"However, I'm afraid that I've been called away. The Ministry has asked for my presence and have given very little notice, or choice, for that matter. And I would have asked Minerva – she is my deputy, after all – but Ms. Summers' first class corresponds with third-year Transfiguration. And, if I am not mistaken, you have this afternoon free."

Severus stiffened. "Why would the Ministry request your presence on the first day of school? Are they not aware that you are the Headmaster and, therefore, have more pressing matters?"

Dumbledore's eyes dimmed briefly just before his smile broadened. "Yes, well, it seems that my comments at young Mr. Potters hearing have earned me some special attention. They have asked that I come in to…discuss…my position on Voldimort's revival."

"They want you to repudiate?" Severus wished he could say he was surprised, but the only startling thing about it was that they were acting so fast. The government never worked fast.

"I imagine that they would like for me to disavow what I said in order to ease the minds of our citizens. But what they want is a lie."

This didn't sit well. Severus had known that there would be a backlash from the statements Dumbledore had made, but he had assumed it would be more passive: public speeches renouncing the truth, maybe an article in the Prophet about the crazy words of a senile old man. But they were going straight to the source by bringing Dumbledore in, and that was decidedly _not_passive and didn't bode well.

"So as you can see, I will not be able to sit in on this afternoons Defense class, as much as I might like to."

Severus' mind was still attempting to determine what the Ministry was up to and how they would react when Dumbledore didn't cave to their desires. The sudden reminder of how the conversation began, however, brought him quickly from his reverie.

"I don't for a minute believe that you want me there to ensure that she's an adequate instructor. Not considering some of the hugely unqualified dunderheads you've put in that post in previous terms."

Dumbledore laughed, making his eyes crinkle into near nothingness. "Ah, yes. Well, I suppose I've decided to be more cautious moving forward. Also, I thought it would be helpful to see exactly _how_a non-wizard would go about teaching wizard's to defend themselves."

And that was as close to the truth as Severus would ever get. Dumbledore wasn't punishing him by giving him more work - even though that's what it felt like - the old man was providing an opportunity for Severus to do what he did best. Watch and learn.

He would get to know what a Slayer was and who, exactly the Summers girl was, whether she volunteer the information or not.

But it didn't mean he'd have to like it.

"Very well."

Dumbledore sighed like he was relieved that his request had been answered positively. But it was complete bollocks. Of course he agreed, just as the Headmaster knew he would.

"Good, good. Well then…"

Severus had the impression that he was about to say something more, but a troubled look came over Dumbledore's face just as Severus noted footsteps coming up the corridor behind him and a student called out.

"Professor Dumbledore…"

Dumbledore looked to Severus one last time offering a small smile. "I appreciate your cooperation."

And then he turned and left while from behind him the sound of footfalls grew louder and faster. "Professor…wait…."

Severus turned, allowing his robes to snap menacingly as he stepped into the middle of the hall, effectively blocking the path of the now running student.

"Ten point from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." His voice dripped with every ounce of the hostility he felt whenever he was forced to be too close to the son of James Potter.

The boy skidded to a stop and looked up at the looming professor.

"And next time I catch you running in the halls, it will be twenty."

With that he snapped back around and stormed the remaining way to the dungeons.

* * *

Buffy shoved on the giant wood doors and strolled into the library, looking around until her eyes fell on a familiar sight.

Familiar and, if Buffy were being honest, missed.

"Hey guys! What's up?"

She strolled into the room towards her friends who had gathered around a long table that was stacked with books and she was instantly transported back to being sixteen. How many times had she walked into the library at Sunnydale High to see Giles, Willow and Xander crouched over innumerable books researching the next big bad?

A lot, but at the same time, not enough. If she had known then what she knew now, she might have cherished those moments a little more.

"Shhhh!"

Buffy tilted her head to see a woman with a pinched faced sitting behind a massive desk glaring at her with a surprising amount of contempt.

"This is a library and you _will_keep your voice down!"

Okay, so _that_wasn't in Sunnydale.

Buffy continued forward, ignoring the talking down. She may have even let her boots clack on the floors a little more than necessary.

When she looked around the room she realized that the absence of a stern, glaring old woman wasn't really the only thing different. For starters, this new library could probably hold a dozen of the old.

Buffy attempted to see how far back the stacks went when she was accosted by one of the single most puzzling things she'd ever born witness to.

A student. In the library. Studying?

Classes hadn't even started yet and there, sitting under the window and wrapped around one of the largest books Buffy had ever seen was a girl who was in serious need of a little leave-in conditioner.

She shook her head. _Bizarre-o wizards._

"Morning." She said as she approached the table, her voice moderately lower than before, and it was followed by a chorus of good morning greetings. "Did you notice that there's people in here and…whoa, Will! I'm not sure if I'm diggin' the new look or if we need to have a talk about perpetuating stereotypes."

Willow smiled and removed the pointed hat from her head, setting it on the table, then smoothed her hands over her crisp white robes. "Hey, Buffy. Are you feeling better?"

Xander reached into his jacket and pulled out an apple, tossing it to Buffy. She gave him a grateful nod. "Yeah, I feel …_great_, actually. I finally got some sleep last night."

"We're going to have to find a place for you to train." Giles looked up from what he'd been reading and Buffy noticed right away that he was still angry. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't _that_big a deal. But truth was, it could have been, and he would know that regardless of what she said. Besides, saying as much would be paramount to defending the Snake, and there was no way in hell that she'd do that.

"There's got to be some place around here that's…gym-like." Buffy said, tossing her bag on the table and successfully scattering the papers Giles had been reading. "Sorry."

Buffy noticed that the paper looked familiar, and she snagged it. "Cleveland Tribune?"

Giles nodded. "There's a book store not far from here in a town called Hogsmead, it's a wizarding village, actually. Anyway, they are able to procure a surprising number of publications fairly quickly."

"What's this?" Buffy asked, pointing towards an article that had been circled in read. _Transient Found Dead on Old Mill Drive._

Giles shrugged. "Nothing…I think.

"Nothing enough to circle it in red ink?"

"The authorities are saying that it was the result of a drug over-dose. Zero-Ex, they call it. If you remember correctly, when the activity in Sunnydale began the local police were quick to blame anything unusual on PCPs."

Buffy scanned the article as Giles spoke, noting nothing strange in the content except… "Says here the body was covered in blood. I'm not really familiar with these new-fangled street drugs, but that doesn't really sound like a simple OD to me."

"Actually, all of the victims of this drug have hemorrhaged out; at least the ones in Cleveland. Again, I doubt it's a problem for the Slayer, but I've been tracking drug-related violence and death to see if I can find any correlation with Sunnydale. This…" He pointed towards the paper. "…doesn't qualify."

"You're probably right." Buffy set the paper aside. "But, seeing as we may be here for a while, it may be worth sending Faith to investigate."

This brought a heavy sigh out of the Slayer and she ran a hand through her hair as slumped back. "Too bad we're in communication limbo. Do you think you can get me to a place where I can make a couple of calls this weekend?"

Giles quirked an eyebrow. "I don't see why not. In the meantime, you can write a letter. These wizards have a very interesting way of sending and receiving written correspondence."

"Might work…if I knew where Faith was. She's harder to find than Carmen Sandiego."

"Not for Faith." Giles smiled, always happy when he understood one of his young companion's pop culture references. "I was thinking about Dawn. You couldn't call her on Sunday and, while I'm sure she's fine, I imagine that you…well…are not."

Buffy couldn't help but smile at the thought of being able to communicate with her baby sister before the weekend. Granted, a letter was a very one-sided way to talk to her, but if it prompted Dawn to write back… "Okay, that's one problem solved, one on its way to being looked into and so that just leaves us with a reasonable training area. Any ideas?"

"Library." Xander chimed in only to have Giles roll his eyes before looking pointedly at the woman near the entrance.

"What? It always worked well in the past. And what can one, sour-looking, old…"

Giles waved his hand, effectively cutting off anything else Xander might have added. "The castle is certainly large enough to house training accommodations – several times over in fact. I'll speak to the Headmaster about it when I see him again."

"What time is it?" Xander asked, biting into his own apple and earning a nasty glare of his own from the hawk-nosed librarian.

"No eating in the library!"

Xander lowered his head and snuck the apple back into his backpack. "Giles never told us we couldn't eat in the library."

"Yes, I did." Giles said, tapping his wrist watch. "You simply never listened." He sighed, lowering his arm. "And I've no idea what time it is. My watch has stopped working."

"That's alright." Xander said, standing up and hefting a bag over one shoulder. "I'd better get going. I'm teaching a class this morning." Xander wagged his eyebrows and grinned goofily. "Can you believe they're going to let me teach a class? With kids?"

"And we wonder why they need help with their war?" Giles said, a little more bitterly than necessary.

But Xander merely snorted in amusement, gaining yet another reproachful look from Hawk-Nose before bouncing out of the room.

Willow watched him go before turning back to Buffy. "What about you? Don't you have a class to teach?"

Buffy shook her head as she pulled a few folded up papers out of her back pocket, depositing them on the table in front of her before straightening them out. "According to this I'm free until after lunch, then I have…." Buffy frowned.

"What is it?" Willow scooted into the seat next to her.

"Apparently I'm teaching…Slytherins…and Gryffindors." She looked up from the papers, eyebrows knotted. "I thought I was teaching kids?"

"You were at the sorting, Buffy. Dinner, our first night here?" Giles said, tossing his book aside.

"At the what?"

Willow and Giles shared a look and Buffy bristled. "I was preoccupied, thank you very much."

"It took an hour for them to classify all the new students. What could have possibly had you _that_preoccupied?"

Buffy felt her bottom lip pop out in classic pout-mode. "The…ceiling…"

Her Watcher sighed, but Willow reached across the table and grabbed a very large, very thick book, tapping it as she spoke.

"They divide the students up into houses…kind of like dorms. Each house has a name based on one of the four school founders. It's a pretty interesting story, if you have the time."

Willow pushed the book towards Buffy, who leaned forward to get a better look, running her hand across the bold lettering.

_Hogwarts: A History._

Buffy flopped back into her seat. "I think I'll wait for the Cliff Notes."

Willow smiled at the expected reaction. "In any case, Gryffindor and Slytherin are two of the houses. The other ones are Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."

"So that's what the talking hat was all about." Buffy looked thoughtful for a moment, before shaking her head and coming back to the present. "That's cool. It's like being on a team. Funny names." She then looked to her friend, houses and sorting quickly forgotten. "What about you, Will? Gonna learn any nifty witch tricks today?"

Willow nodded almost demurely, but Buffy could see the excitement in her eyes. "I'm just observing until I'm able to get a wand of my own. But I've already met with the resident healer – a woman named Poppy Pomphry – and I'm pretty psyched to start. Magic can be used to heal so many things, in different ways than I thought. Buffy, I had no idea."

_She should have had an idea_, Buffy thought, feeling a wave of caustic heat swell in her chest before she quickly stamped in out. _If you can raise the dead, dulling a headache should be a cakewalk._

"That's…great!" She turned to Giles but before she could ask about his plans he shoved another book under her nose. "What's this?"

"Bits of old news articles; all about the first reign of Voldemort. "

Buffy took it from his hands and realized that it wasn't a book, but a jumbo stack of loose paper bound together with a leather strap. "Anything interesting?"

"Oh yes. Quite a bit, actually. We'll go over it all in time. However, what I wanted to point out was towards the very end, just before Voldemort dies. The way it all came about is rather puzzling and I would like for you to read through it so we can discuss it when we meet again."

Buffy couldn't help but smile. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're giving me homework."

Giles eyes softening for the first time since she'd told him about her little excursion, and she instantly felt herself relax. "I really do need a fresh pair of eyes. I've been going through this all weekend and the only thing I know for certain is that the whole story is not being given. But there's this bit about Voldemort attacking a wizarding family…not unusually in of itself, but the way it's written makes it seem like there was something more to this attack…something personal. But what's really interesting is that there was a young, completely defenseless child whom he was unable to kill though it is clear that this was his target. I think that may offer us an important clue."

Buffy's head shot up and she eyed her Watcher closely. "Why wasn't he able to kill the kid?"

Giles' lips thinned in the way they did when he either didn't know the answer or wasn't pleased with it. This was confirmed a mere moment later when the glasses came off and the polishing commenced.

"Well?"

Giles replaced his glasses and looked both perplexed and slightly apologetic as he took in a deep breath.

"It's not clear, though there is a lot of speculation: luck, black magic, fate."

Buffy nodded as she gathered the clippings in her hands. "I guess, if nothing else, it gives us a place to start."

"There's more." Giles stated, gently clearing his throat as two sets of expectant eyes looked back at him. "The child…he's, uh, here."

Buffy took a quick look around, instantly finding the bushy-headed girl she'd seen upon arrival. The young witch must have sensed her stare because her attention was drawn up and for the briefest of moments the two made eye contact.

It was broken by Giles' soft voice. "Not _here _as in the library _here. _He's attending Hogwarts._"_

"Oh…" Buffy turned back.

"Harry Potter is his name, and from what I can tell he is very well known. Or, at least, his name is."

"That's good, though." Willow chimed. "I mean, maybe we could ask him questions, maybe find out a little about him. Get to know him. Maybe he knows exactly why Voldemort couldn't kill him." Willow straightened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Giles shrugged. "That would be ideal, but very unlikely. I'm certain we're not the first to think of questioning him, therefore I would be willing to bet that either he knows very little or he's not very eager to divulge information."

Buffy looked thoughtfully at the newspaper clippings, running her fingers over the moving image of chaos and fire as the Potter residence burned relentlessly. "Poor kid…"

Willow shifted, causing her robes to rustle. "Maybe…"

"More with the maybes, Will?"

Willow blushed as she played with her sleeve. When she looked up, it wasn't at Buffy, but Giles. "Buffy might be able to gain his trust. I mean…" Willow allowed her eyes to scan over Buffy's face before she looked once again to Giles. "She's always been, charismatic and, uh, good with teenage boys. Most boys, really."

Buffy's first reaction was confusion. _How am I 'good' with teenage boys? _Her second was a dawning sort of realization. And her third was to cross her arms across her chest and glare at the red-headed witch.

"You want me to seduce him?" Buffy chuckled, but something about the look on Willow's face made her stop. "You _do _want me to seduce him! Will, that's…"

Giles coughed in an obvious attempt to hide a smile. Buffy glared at him for only a moment before turning back to Willow, brow raised expectantly.

"Not seduce _exactly…_ just…"

"Just _what, _Will? It's gross! We don't even know how old this kid is!" Buffy's voice was just loud enough to draw the gaze of the librarian.

"You just need to gain his trust, so that he'll talk." Willow pointed out as though it were the most logical thing in the world. "And the fastest way to do that is to use your feminine wiles."

Buffy snorted. "Yea, that is _so _not going to happen. He's a kid, Will. I'm not going to use my wiles when he shouldn't even be looking! It won't work."

"But, if it wasn't for your ability to catch the eye of people and _things _who shouldn't be looking, you probably wouldn't have _ever _had a boyfriend. And, I know some of those…well, some of them caused some trouble…"

Giles smirked even while Buffy clenched her teeth. "You can stop anytime, Will."

"I'm not judging! Think of how helpful some of your exes are. Of course, they caused their fair share of trouble, but, if you didn't attract people who aren't good for you there probably wouldn't have been a whole lot of…"

Buffy's eyes narrowed dangerously and Willow faltered while the grin on Giles' face grew more pronounced.

Willow let out a small huff. "Well, there still would have been that one encounter in college…."

"Willow!" Buffy's voice was louder now and punctuated by the loud thump she'd given the table.

"Riley might still have happened." Willow squeaked out quickly just as Buffy shouted. "That's enough!"

And before either could utter another word, Buffy felt three, stiff taps on her shoulder.

With a sigh she spun to face the librarian who glared sternly down her nose.

That was the first time Buffy had been kicked out of the library at Hogwarts, but as she made her way back up to her room, she somehow doubted it would be the last.

* * *

The morning had gone as expected. The Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff class had gone by without issue and the following seventh-year N.E.W.T. class had been without incident.

But that was all he could say. For an N.E.W.T. level class, the students had been beyond disappointing and Severus had to wonder at his own, lax, selection process.

Lunch was also tolerable. The Slayer was there, sitting between her Watcher and Lupin. The three of them sat with their heads drawn together, deep in discussion and Severus thought it was probably about the upcoming class seeing as there had been very little time to prepare.

Regardless, Severus had been ignored, and that was perfectly fine with him. It left him to ponder the upcoming Defense class, and how in the name of Merlin that was going to go.

It would be Gryffindor and Slytherin – a tough group on a good day. He had no thoughts on the type of teaching experience the Slayer might have, but he doubted it would prepare her for that lot. He supposed that she really didn't have to do anything - the teaching was a cover, after all. She could simply sit back and let Lupin do whatever it was he did, supporting him when the occasion rose.

But was she the type to sit back, nod when appropriate, and otherwise not participate? Severus didn't know her well, but somehow this image didn't fit with the girl he'd interacted with. No, she'd want to be involved.

And how would the children react? The Gryffindor's might be tolerant…at least as much so as they ever were. But many of his Slytherins wouldn't take well to being taught by a muggle, and Severus wasn't sure how he felt about that. Granted, he wouldn't mind seeing them knock her down a peg or two.

But…

What if she could succeed in teaching them something useful? Would she be able to gain their respect? Severus made his way out of the great hall, leaving moments after Lupin and the Slayer. The notion of her falling into the good graces of his students was ludicrous, of course…but if she could alter their perception, it may make his future position in protecting them from their fated initiation as Death Eaters slightly easier.

Imagine that. If a few could look to her – or the other muggles present, for that matter – and see them as people rather than, well, _muggles,_would they be able to stand following Voldemort and his warped ideals?

They had studied and worked beside muggle-borns, and that had done nothing. But would it be different because she's instructing them rather than acting as one of their peers?

He shook the thought from his head. It was stupid and idealistic and there was no use in hoping for something like that. It had taken the death of someone he cared for deeply to make him see how wrong he'd been, so why should he assume that the younger generation would be more insightful? Especially considering how thick in the head most of them were.

Severus had no idea how the class would go. It would probably bore him. Or worse – he'd witness lackluster, mediocre instruction on the part of Lupin and feel infinitely worse about being rejected, yet again, for the position. He'd be forced to bare witness to his Slytherins lose interest in what is likely the most important course they'll take simply because Summers was there. He was giving up valuable time that could be used grading, preparing for an upcoming class or simply lounging in his office _and_he was being forced to oversee a class containing the one student in all the school whose presence he could barely tolerate.

How's the class going to go? It's going to be bloody awful!

One thing was for certain, Buffy Summers and her group of muggles miscreants wouldn't be able to wave their non-magical hands and bring harmony to the hearts of children who have been cultivated from birth to distrust.

No, his Slytherins would gain nothing from this. In fact, they'll likely go backwards by being forced to take a class dedicated to _defending oneself against dark magic_ being taught by a talentless werewolf and a girl, barely older than they are, who cannot even _do_magic.

Severus sighed. _There it was_. Severus felt it seeping in through the corners of his mind, tightening his chest – that familiar venom replacing the ridiculous, if brief, thoughts of hope. He breathed it in, feeling his brow furrow and his frown deepen. Pleasant? Decidedly not. But it was familiar, and something he understood well.

And so by the time he entered the defense classroom, he was able to meet the curious glance of each student with a fierce glare.

* * *

I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you all for your reviews, favs and follows. They really mean a lot to me. Also know that while I sometimes may not be able to post regularly (though now that classes are over, it should be much easier) I will make a promise to never abandon this fic. I know from experience how frustrating it is to get into a story only to have the author toss is aside. I will not do that to you or to me.

Also, as always, a big TY to Luhh Vieira: Beta extraordinaire!

Next chapter, by the way, is nearly complete and a lot of fun (in my humble opinion).

~FI


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